


Fool Me Twice

by analyn100



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Episode: s11e11 Entropy, Episode: s12e22 Red Light
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2018-12-15 13:32:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 26
Words: 49,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11806980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/analyn100/pseuds/analyn100
Summary: Catherine Adams loves to play games with Spencer. He may have been out of prison for two months, but like the cat playing with the mouse, Spencer will never be free.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [IllegalCerebral](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IllegalCerebral/gifts).



Spencer Reid collapsed on the hotel room bed, for once not caring to mill over the folders of case files in his satchel. He pulled his credentials out of his pocket, eyeing the young man in the photograph. He looked so young, carefree. It really hadn't been that long ago, but it felt like a lifetime ago. Reinstatement to the Bureau still felt like a dream as much as Mexico had felt like a nightmare. His brain was determined to deny both realities. He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head to dispel the memories of the last hotel room he'd been in. In some ways he was desperate to remember, so desperate in fact that he'd been on his way to another hypnotherapy session when Rossi had intercepted him. It was a blessing. Rossi (the whole team) had stressed that point over and over again. Once he remembered, he would never forget and some bones were best left buried. So he'd spent his time with his mom at her new facility, taking J.J.'s kids to the zoo (that hadn't gone over so well), basically anything to keep his mind off of - them. Any of them. Lindsey (or whatever her name was), Wilkins, especially Cat. Wilkins and Lindsey may have been the perpetrators but they never would have done anything without her - her and that poor damned to Hell child she was caring.

The child, the poor kid was going to be raised by drug cartels and mobsters. The kid was never going to have a chance, not even a snow ball's chance in Hell of becoming a decent person. J.J. had told him, Rossi, everyone, even Morgan had told him to drop it, but he hadn't. If only the poor kid could grow up away from...this. Never hear his name, or hers...never come after him for revenge on her behest. Such was his (rational) fear, that he had inquired as to what would happen to the baby. Maybe he could find a couple in the Bureau who wanted to adopt. Someone who would know about the case for security but with no emotional connection...but that had been a bust. Mothers in prison had very few rights, but choosing who had custody of the baby was one of them.

He sighed as he picked through the case files, determined to focus on a problem he could actually potentially solve, but even that didn't give his stressed brain any relief. Two Jane Dos, mutilated, raped and decomposed. Heads and hands chopped off so no ID, wounds were post-mortem and the mutilation was so crude that they couldn't be certain that it wasn't caused by animals. Problem with that theory was the public dump site. Why mutilate a body beyond recognition, then put it on display? The decomposition was so severe that there wasn't even an obvious time of death. Well the team certainly had their work cut out for them. What a way to end a six month leave? A knock on the door gave him a brief reprieve from the depression staring him in the face.

"Who is it?" Never again would he simply open a hotel room door.

"Detective Garrison, Detroit PD." He opened the door, expecting to be given a new set of case files and a team just behind him, but the only person there was another local and they did not look happy at all.

"Can I help you?"

"Spencer Reid?"

"Yes."

"Put your hands where I can see them."

Were those handcuffs in his hand? "I don't -" Such was his shock, that Reid didn't even bother to struggle as his hands were wrenched behind his back.

"Dr. Spencer Reid, you are under arrest!" 

*** SIX HUNDRED MILES AWAY ***

Catherine Adams smiled, a victorious smile that was not often to be seen in the frozen hell of FCI Waseca's solitary confinement cells, but today was special.

IT IS DONE

Such a simple, yet profound message. She sat her aching back on her cold hard cot, marveling at the bold red print on the crisp white paper. She would have to find some way to have this 'framed'. "You hear that, Maeve?" She stroked her bulging belly. "We've got Daddy right where he belongs."

Her twisted smile grew as she remembered her last meeting with Spency. 'Watch me.' Those were the last words he'd spoken to her before attempting to walk out of their lives forever. He may have won the battles, but she was about to win the war.

"No, Spency, you watch ME!"


	2. Chapter 2

Pls re-read the end of the last chapter if you haven’t already. It was slightly changed for the better

Chapter 2

Spencer Reid paced his small solitary jail cell with all the pent up energy of a caged tiger. What in the Hell? He raised his hand to slam it against the stone wall but managed to stop himself. There was no better way to get a bad rep with the guards than unprovoked self-mutilation. How many times had he seen a fellow inmate taken off to psych at Milburn for such a thing? He instead wrung his fingers together so tightly that he may well have dislocated his knuckles. Damn. The team would be here soon. The arrest may have happened at 10 pm, but it had to be morning by now. Surely they would notice when he didn’t meet them by the SUV. Garcia would figure it out, and by her style it would take approximately 30 seconds to unravel the mystery that he’d spent the last what 9 hours contemplating. It didn’t make any sense. The last time Cat and Lindsey had done a brilliant frame up job. He hated to compliment psychopaths, but it really was brilliant. Lindsey practically had to hand the answers to the team on a silver platter before anyone had a clue. But this? The team had kept him on a tight leash for fear of retaliation. It had been mostly paranoia with them in prison, but another accomplice trying to dish out the same twisted justice was still a possibility so every precaution had been taken. In Mexico he’d been at the crime scene, got his blood at the scene and had been caught fleeing - acting the Agent in a place that he KNEW he didn’t have jurisdiction. Quite a stupid move for such a genius, but desperate - and drugged - people did stupid things. Clearly he was no exception there. But this time, he hadn’t been in a compromising situation. What on earth could possibly warrant this arrest?

He decided to count his lucky stars that he’d been put into a segregation cell. At least he didn’t have to sleep with one eye open, but his night of sleep hadn’t been that much better. Jetlag had caught up to him and he’d finally gotten a full three hours of sleep before being awaked to a tray of - slop. To some it may have passed as oatmeal, but he wouldn’t be so generous in his description. He’d managed to choke it down, before count began. If there were only three thing certain in this miserable life, it was: death, taxes and count.

The metal “mail slot” to his cell opened. He knew what that cue meant. He slipped his hands through the opening to allow for the dreaded handcuffs. Did they really need to be that tight?  
“This way,” the Guard -Timmons- instructed. “Follow me.”

“Do I get my phone call now?” They passed a row of pay phones but he didn’t have an account set up yet. Or did he? He hated being in the dark.

“All in good time”, the guard - Timmons - assured him.

Whatever that meant. “And what time would that be?” Relax, Reid, the man’s just doing his job.

“As soon as you’re done here.” The visitation room door was opened and the cuffs removed. With the dreaded click the lock was sealed and Reid turned around, half expecting to see a team member with information. His luck, however, seemed to have run out. The face that greeted him was familiar. Unwelcome, but familiar. “Detective Garrison.”

“Dr. Reid.” The greeting was curt and professional but that smile was, unnerving. “Take a seat.” He indicated the metal chair at the other end of the table. “Have any questions for me, before we get started?”

“When do I get my phone call?”

“If you’re asking for your attorney -”

“I am.”

“I’ve already spoken to Miss Duncan on your behalf. She is in court with a client but will be out here this weekend.”

That meant they’d already looked at his prison file, which meant they knew he was an agent - an agent with a record. Fiona had mentioned that getting records expunged was a lengthy process which had only just begun. That was beginning to look like a pipe dream. “We’re done here.”

“Sit. Down!”

“I’m not going to talk without my lawyer.” It was true, what Hotch had always said about repeat offenders. Those who had been to jail before knew the drill and rarely talked without an attorney. Theoretically, he fit that profile too now. That thought was more than a little unnerving.

“Well then don’t talk. Just listen. I, for one, am required to inform you of your charges and I intend to do that.”

Reluctantly, he obeyed. The man did have a point.

“Dr. Reid, you have been charged on two counts of murder and rape.”

“I didn’t do it.” Fiona wouldn’t be mad at him for saying that much, would she?

“You don’t sound all that surprised.”

Technically, that wasn’t a question, and they both knew it.

“I’ve been framed before. But obviously, you knew that.”

“What is obvious to me, is that you walked away from the Ramos charge in Mexico, but you won’t walk out this time. Come now, Dr. Reid, your reputation, both good and bad proceed you. So what I’m going to do is something that I never do for an inmate. I’m going to show you a little respect.”

“Respect?” Reid stared at the man in disbelief. An officer showing respect to an inmate. Well, that would be a first.

“Yes.” He drummed his fingers against two case file folders which had been rubberbanded together with a white envelope on top. He pushed the stack toward Reid, with a small smile. He looked quite pleased with himself. “This is my idea of respect. You’re a smart man, Dr. Reid. Act like it.”

Reid frowned, trying to wrap his head around this madness. He was getting used to being confused, and he didn’t like it. “What makes you so confident that I did this?”

The detective didn’t answer and on a professional level, he understood. No officer or agent liked it when the questions were turned on them. He took a deep breath and looked the detective in the eye, hoping to convey the intended emotions. Anxiety could be interpreted as guilt very easily. “You didn’t wait to charge me. No holding cell, no questions. Nothing. What makes you that confident that I’m your unsub? Man, I just got OUT of prison. Why on earth would I want to risk going back? It makes no sense at all!”

“I don’t know why, Dr. Reid, and unlike you, I’m not going to sit at my desk playing guessing games. Guard!”

Timmons walked back in the room. “Escort Inmate Reid back to his cell, and make sure he is given these files to browse at his leisure. Have a good day, Dr. Reid.” He tipped his hat in what could only be describe as a mock salute and exited the room.

*****

Reid laid back on his bunk, twirling the card in his hand. Detective Garrison had been “nice” enough to leave a calling card so he could make his phone call at his ‘earliest convenience’ which probably wouldn’t be until he was let out for his one hour a day. That left him plenty of time to browse the files. His curiosity was driving him nuts. On the one hand, he wanted to see the so-called evidence to put his mind at ease. On the other hand, if the new accomplices were just as smart, the evidence might not have that calming effect. Oh, come now, Spencer, he chided himself. What could they possibly have on you? Well, apparently, something really incriminating to warrant skipping a proper interrogation tactic, and what a strange tactic this was too. He certainly had never been tempted to hand over a file to an unsub to ‘browse at leisure’.

Oh to Hell with it. He picked plucked the white envelope out from the rubberbands. Maybe a letter from the team?

_Dear Dr. Reid,_

_You may not remember me from the arsonist case a few years ago, but I remember you. Your help was very appreciated and I have the greatest respect for your team which is why it grieves me to see you here. But we must do as we must, which is to follow the evidence. Honestly, I did not think you would come, but then again the bodies were unidentified so you must have thought you would get away with it - that you could frame someone else for your murder, inject yourself into the investigation as Agent Hotchner would say.-_

Wait just one -! Reid put the bizarre letter down and ripped open the files against his better judgement. Inject himself into the investigation? - but that would have to mean -

It was a trick. Unbelieveable, sneaky bastards. Sh*t!

Of course, it was a state case. They couldn’t arrest him outside of their jurisdiction and what better way to get him to come -? He fisted the papers in his hands, the same papers he had been looking over in his hotel room. Did he really profile as - ? Think rationally, Reid, logic! Logic is the key here. It almost made sense in that he would know how to take extreme forensic countermeasures and post mortem mutilation meant - well, that. It was more about the countermeasures than any torture. That’s what one would expect of a cop-turned-killer. But that still didn’t answer - He picked up the letter again.

_Enclosed is the primary evidence against you. The only form in these files that was NOT sent to Quantico. After you have reviewed the case in its entirety, I’m sure you will want to sign the very generous plea offer. I will return to pick up the completed paperwork._

_Regards,_   
_Detective Garrison_

Reid gulped as he fingered the second page, his hand shaking. How bad could it be? Just do it, it’s planted evidence. Whatever it is, the team will figure it out. You have nothing to hide...nothing to fear. You’re innocent. You know that, this paper won’t change anything.

Before he could change his mind, he unfolded the paper and read it in a heartbeat,

He shook his head in denial - no. It couldn’t. It was impossible, preposterous even and yet - I’m screwed. In that one millisecond, he knew the awful truth.

With the stakes at their highest, Cat had just played a hand of aces...and he had nothing.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reid gets a visit.

Chapter Three

Everyone had to sleep. It was fundamental to a person's health - both physical AND mental, even the strongest minds could not live on adrenaline alone. Spencer Reid's brain had met its match, he realized as he woke to a face full of...papers. Papers strewn over every square inch of his cell. It was only after his first sighting of hope that he'd finally allowed himself the luxury of sleep for the first time in...had it really been days? With no sunlight and no work assignment,the days had blended together. He never thought for one second that he would miss the laundry room of Milburn. But he did - talking to Delgado and Malcom had taken the edge off of his boredom. Now? Now he had nothing, except perhaps a small ray of hope.

The more he cleared his mind and studied the photos objectively, he realized what he should have realized in a heartbeat. The victims had been found off of a popular hiking trail. How had they not been found for months? Because they weren't there for months. Someone must have planted them, dug them up and planted them where they WOULD certainly be found. It couldn't have been him - of course not - he had been in DC when the bodies were planted!

He dropped his head into his arms as the ray of hope disappeared, like a rock slide covering a tunnel entrance. That didn't mean anything. The prosecution would assume he had an accomplice, besides that small alibi wouldn't trump Cat's hand of aces.

His only hope was that these women had been killed while he was in Milburn - no one could deny him that alibi - but he knew he wouldn't be so lucky. Cat wouldn't let her accomplices make such a stupid mistake. It was hopeless. He threw his ball point pen across the cell, wishing he had a plain notebook. If only he could write enough notes on this case to fill a novel, but the only papers he had were official forms which required his signature. Forms he had no intention of signing - some of which he had still resisted reading.

The mail slot opened again.

"I told you, I'm not signing anything!" Timmons had been sent twice already to collect the forms that Reid hadn't even spared a glance at. He was still too busy trying to crack the case to bother.

"Visitation time."

Finally. The only word that could get Reid to willingly slide his hands through the slot for handcuffs.

Timmons led him out and down to the visitation room, but instead of a team member, it was. "Fiona" He breathed a sigh of relief as the door closed.

"Spencer." She replied curtly, offering him a seat. She didn't look pleased to see him, but that wasn't a surprise since he'd jokingly promised to never call her again. People simply did not get framed for murder twice. He had a better chance of being struck by lightening twice: so about 1 in a billion.

"Detective Garrison said you wouldn't be by until the weekend. Its..."

"Saturday."

"Oh. Right. So..."

"What happened?"

"I didn't do it."

"Spencer!"

"I swear, Fiona, I didn't! Don't you believe me?" Was she really not going to take his case? Of course she would, she wouldn't fly out to Michigan just to say 'hi' "You have to believe me. What did the team tell you?" Did they actually think...why hadn't they visited? He hadn't let himself dwell on that question.

"Nothing. Emily stopped by my office..."

"Wait...they aren't here?" He sank down into his chair, his head in his hands. They weren't coming?

"Speencer..." a small voice whistled in his ear.

He looked up at Fiona's sad smile. "There's still this thing you keep forgetting about called 'attorney/client confidentiality'. I told Emily I needed to speak to you first. Most of my clients would frown upon me openly discussing their case with the Feds."

"But I'm not -" he protested.

"I know, You're right. You aren't like most of them. Most of my clients don't get framed once, let alone twice. So what happened?"

"I don't know!"

"Spencer, Emily told me you and the rest of the team were coming here to consult on a case and you were arrested as the prime suspect upon arrival. So you've seen the case file, which means you know something. What's your take on it?"

"The bodies were found near a well-worn hiking trail. Which begs the question why they weren't found sooner when they've obviously been dead for some time. That points to planted evidence, but the coroner didn't have an exact time of death." He took a deep breath to steady his voice. "So we can't provide an alibi. The key is getting an ID, but with that level of mutilation..." And there began the cycle. The point his brain always came back to. Without an ID, the physical evidence alone would convict him. Cat was going to win. "She's going to win," he sighed.

"Who is going to win?"

"Cat!" He bit the name out, as if it left a bad taste in his mouth.

"What does your cat have anything...?"

He laughed. The closest thing to a real laugh he'd had in a long time. "You really don't know anything here, do you?"

Fiona smiled, slightly insulted but she seemed to have lifted Spencer spirits, somehow. "Do me a favor, Spencer. Enlighten me."

"Well after I got out of Millburn -"

"You mean after your team went to the Judge behind my back -"

"Right."

Fiona didn't seem too mad, amused maybe, but only because the tactic had worked. She wasn't going to be too upset about exculpatory evidence, but that didn't mean such misconduct would be permitted again.

"I um, J.J. and I went to confront Cat - Catherine Adams - about my mother's abduction."

Fiona sat back in her chair and listened in rapt attention to a story that was stranger than fiction.

*******

Spencer looked up from his lap to give her a grim look of resignation. "Well, there you have it."

"So, wait...this happened in Mexico! And you thought I didn't need to know about it! Didn't I say that if you withheld information from me, it would come back to bite you in the ass?"

"I was drugged. I don't remember. Honestly, I don't." He was starting to sound like a broken record.

"You don't remember being drugged, sexually molested and having your semen bagged?"

He shook his head, his face in his hands.

"Spencer that's..." She didn't even know what to make of it.

"Preposterous. I know, that's exactly what I told HER! But..." He looked up from the table and held up the one paper that had plagued his mind both day and night for the last three days.

"But somehow someone got access to your semen and planted it INSIDE the victims, so that the rape kit would be matched to you. Is there any other way? Did you ever give a sample to a sperm bank? A fertility clinic? Does anyone else have access to -?"

"No! So how do we prove -?"

"We can't. Not right now."

"We need more victims." He had been hoping that wasn't the case. He hated wishing ill on anyone.

"Not necessarily. If you never visited Cat in prison prior to the pregnancy test, then a paternity test could PROVE that someone else had the opportunity to commit this crime. That baby is your only hope of getting out of here - ever."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reid's first phone call to the team.

Rossi Manor was a place of elegance and sophistication, one did not eat take-out pizza in David Rossi's kitchen. It simply did not happen, until today. Gone were the parties of excellent food and better company, today the team was scattered on various couches and chairs with half empty pizza boxes and coffee cups. Penelope and J.J. were even eating ice cream straight from the carton, but even that amount of caffeine and sugar couldn't break through the brain fog.

"Please tell me one of my furry friends has a clue what's going on?" Garcia pleaded, her eyes on Michael who was playing with Rossi's dog.

"And why did Emily summon us all here? Where is she anyway?"

"Meeting with the Director," Rossi answered, not looking up from his laptop.

"Wait, what? Why would she need -?"

"Someone got wind that I used the Dr/Dr trick at Millburn, plus Reid's prisoner transport from Mexico wasn't exactly by the book, so we're under investigation for misconduct." Tara sipped her coffee and grimaced. It seemed like such a good idea at the time.

"Who told -?" A buzzing from Garcia's phone and the question died on her lips, quickly replaced with a smile. "Yes I accept the charges. Hey, Reid, how's my Dr. Genius doing?"

Reid's voice filled the room on speaker phone. "Wow, I get a witty Garcia greeting? Even from in here?"

"Anything to get a smile on your face, Boy Wonder. So what can I do you for? How are you?"

"Oh, I've been better."

"Reid, that doesn't answer my question."

"Fiona said you're in D.C.? Why didn't you come to visit?"

"Oh sweetie, I'm so sorry. The morning after your arrest, Emily got a call from the Director. We were ordered home right away or we'd face charges of interfering with an investigation."

"So, you'll come see me on your way home from your next West Coast case, right?" The hope in his voice was almost tangible and it made Penelope's heart break.

"I'm sorry, we aren't allowed. Our visitation application was denied." Silence. Except for the raspy breathing on the other end of the line.

"Reid? Is there anyone else you want to see? Anyone I could call for you?"

"No." He sounded close to tears. "Actually, no, no they're...never mind."

"Reid, who?"

"It's too far, to...never mind."

"Here, let me," Rossi took the phone from Garcia. "Reid, Rossi here, hang in there, okay, Kid. Now that we have a mailing address for you, went sent you some surprises last night."

"Surprises? What kind of surprises?"

"Well that would spoil the surprise wouldn't it? Something to keep that - what did you call it, Garcia? - that gorgeous grey matter working at top notch. And don't use all of that commissary money we sent on phone calls. You call us collect, okay?"

"Commissary money? What could I buy of interest in here?"

"I don't know, ask for the list, I'm sure you could find something to make you more comfortable there. You are in PC, right?"

"Yeah, I'm in Protective Custody."

"You don't sound so thrilled. Isn't that what you wanted last time?"

"Wanted? Who wants to be locked up 23 hours a day? My hour a day rotates between "yard time" in an outdoor cage, 2 showers per week, and..."

"-visitation and phone time, like now."

"Right, like now."

"Speaking of phone time, how much do you have left?"

"17 minutes."

"Okay, back to business. Do you have any idea who Cat could be working with now that Lindsey is in prison? Anyone with a reason to hurt you?"

"No, I mean, yes, but they are in too. Alvez told me Shaw is in Milan which is about 50 miles away….Oh God no!"

"Reid, you are in the state system, Shaw is in Federal. He's not there, you're okay."

"But it's not… it's not that far away what if-?"

"Sounds like you're onto something, Kid, tell me!"

"What if Shaw was working with -? I don't know, but what if he had someone transport bodies across the state line. If they are ID-ed I could -" End up back in with Shaw at FCI Milan! Suddenly finding the ID sounded like just as much a death sentence. "But the rape kit - that still wouldn't -"

"One thing at a time, Kid. We'll look into Shaw. Anyone else?"

"Well he worked with Frazer, Duerson and Malcom in Millburn, but it couldn't be -"

"Why not? Tell me, even if it sounds crazy we can still ask around."

"But if you can't work the case -?"

"We have access to the records, Reid, just not the tangible evidence -"

"Or the suspect," he finished bitterly.

"Unfortunately, yes, but we can still help and we will. So what about them?"

"Okay, J.J. remember when Henry wanted me to take him to the zoo for a late birthday?"

"Yes, I remember. I tried to talk him out of it, but he was insistent that he wanted his Uncle Spence to teach him all about the animals. He had a great time, thank you."

"You remember how that day ended?"

"You mean with Alvez taking over, because…" because Reid being traumatized by seeing so many innocent animals locked up had shown her just how much prison had affected him. "He asked me why I was so upset and could the team help?"

"Who asked you? Henry?" Henry didn't even know Reid had been in prison.

"No, Alvez. I thought...I thought it would happen again, that one of them would have someone kill me. That's why I was so eager to move my mom out of harm's way -"

"You mean out of your apartment and to her new facility in Maryland." And here they all thought Reid had finally listened to reason.

"I thought I was being paranoid, but Lindsey got that apartment down the hall and - I was scared, paranoid maybe."

"It's not paranoia if someone's out to get you." You're not crazy. The unspoken message seemed to get across because his voice sounded steadier. "Anyway, he told me how Shaw was moved after he failed to keep his end of the deal."

"The deal to keep you safe?"

"Exactly, I asked him if he could put in some requests for me." His voice dropped, no doubt so no one else would hear. No inmate in prison wanted to hear that someone had the power to move them. Prison may be prison all the same, but like in real estate: location was key. "Malcom has family in southern CA so he's in Lompoc. He was nice to me most of the time, until...until the last day. Dureson restrained me so he went to Atwater, also in CA. But they're 260 miles apart, so -"

"So none of the guards has dual access" - like Wilkins did - "continue."

"Frazier was the one who actually did...that." He'd seen enough severed carotid wounds in his life time, but the image of it actually happening was burned into his retinas. "He went to Florence, in Colorado. But Cat, she, um, she's in Waseca."

"Wasca, isn't that Minnesota?"

"Surrounded by 15 miles of nothing, yes, that's it."

"Anything else at all? What about Lindsey?"

"That didn't go through. She's still in Mount Pleasant."

"Wait, with Cat?"

"That's why I was in a hurry to move her. I didn't want them collaborating. But it's okay, Cat was the mastermind and she's gone now."

There was a collective hush around the room, even a pin drop could have been heard. Reid taking Cat away from Lindsey had been the primary motivation, but Reid hadn't known that. After his mother had been found, nothing else had mattered to him at all. "Except that she's done it again."

"But how?"

How indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All prison information comes from the List of U.S. Federal prisons on Wikipedia. Please note, Mount Pleasant Women's Correctional Facility and the MIllburn Correctional Facility (both mentioned in Season 12) don't actually exist. Funny enough, the head of Cat's crime ring was sent to USP Terre Haute in Indiana which actually does exist.


	5. Chapter Five

Fifteen, Sixteen, Seventeen! Damn it! Spencer Reid finally put down the pillow he'd been banging against his cell wall. He had never wanted so much to punch something -anything. He rubbed the tears that were threatening to spill out of his eyes. Crying wasn't going to make anything better. He'd managed not to cry in Millburn for goodness sake, but that was because he knew he would be marked as easy prey if he showed any weakness, but now? Now there was nothing but white stone walls and bed sheets. No one to see, no one to judge. The pounding of the gavel and those damned words reverberated inside his skull, refusing him any peace. Bail denied.

He should not have been surprised. Fiona had warned him that he no longer had a clean record, that two arrests in one year would be counted against him. But he'd been framed! His protests - via Fiona - had fallen on deaf ears. Cat may have confessed but Lindsey was the one in Mexico, and Lindsey's mouth was sealed tighter than Fort Knox. Add to the fact that Lindsey had plead guilty to 11 murders, 9 of which were in Texas and the last 2 were of US citizens in Mexico- but Nadie wasn't among them. Nadie's murder was with a knife and she was fighting it. She was already in for life which meant she was simply toying with him. There was no other explanation.

He threw the pillow again. What on earth had he ever done to Lindsey? He'd saved her, for goodness sake. He had entered that godforsaken bathroom to save her without back-up. He had put his life on the line for her - and this was his gratitude? No, 'thank you, Dr. Reid for trying to save my life!' No all he'd gotten was the 'if looks could kill' stare - and this.

He laid down on his bunk, hoping a nap would help quell his turbulent emotions. Was he being stupid by pleading not guilty? 25-years to life? He couldn't live like this for 25 years! That 10-15 years offer he'd ripped up in front of Fiona was now looking very tempting - especially Garrison's "generous" offer of allowing him to pick his own prison. But that was gone now, gone with his arraignment. He picked up the case files again, only to throw them back down as the tears clouded his vision. It was hopeless.

* * *

 

Penelope Garcia was a splash of color, the light among all the darkness, the positive spirit that lifted everyone out of their depressions. That was how she had survived losing her parents, leaving Shane. How she had survived being shot by a man she thought had honestly liked her. James Clarke Battle had messed with her head, taken away her sense of safety and security, but everything paled in comparison to the mess Boy Wonder had been dragged in to.

She stood at the doorway, Emily's and Tara's calming voices in the earpiece reassuring her.

After taking 10 deep breaths, trying to calm her pounding heart, she stepped into the interrogation room. She had never felt so out of place in her life, despite the fact that she had never before blended in so well in her black skirt and jacket. The only part of her perky spirit that could be seen was in her ruby red blouse and silver heart-shaped necklace which she twisted between her painted fingernails.

She placed the small tripod stand and digital recorder on the table, fingering the files tucked under her arms. 'You've done this before, you've presented hundreds of cases.' The problem was she'd never done so before the killer herself. She's chained to the chair, Garcia reassured herself. She had confirmed so from the observation window. She couldn't go anywhere or do...anything.

"Hello. My name is Agent Garcia. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me for the FBI's Vicap Studies."

The devil that was named Lindsey Vaughn nodded ever so slightly, her petite form and small smile belying the danger that lurked behind those cold hard eyes.

She picked up the files, giving a half way smile to the victim-turned-criminal. "I must say, Miss Vaughn, I am quite impressed. You've been quite the busy bee, we don't often see women killers who manage to evade law enforcement for so long." Flatter her, Emily had encouraged. Flattery was the key.

Lindsey scoffed, her head held high. "I didn't evade anyone! That would imply that they were after me. No one suspected a THING." Like a snake prowling among the weeds, she could take down even the most formidable prey.

At that moment, Penelope wished more than anything that she was safe in her lair, that it was Reid doing this interviews. He LOVED doing ViCap interviews, he'd even volunteered for them a couple of times, But Reid couldn't do this one, because of her! In that moment, she knew. She knew could do this, she could nail this snake if it meant getting Reid back. To get her Dr. Genius back, she could do anything.


	6. chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garcia interviews Lindsey for a 'Vicap study'

"Well you got caught, so someone must have suspected."

"There's a reason I don't trust people. First accomplice I've worked with and he gives it all away."

"Who was that?" This might be easier than she ever thought possible.

"Penelope!" Emily's warning hissed in her ear. They had to tread carefully and Garcia was already throwing caution to the wind.

"That case isn't up for discussion." Right. They only had permission from her lawyer to discuss closed cases, murders to which she had already plead guilty.

"So which case would you like to discuss?" She placed Cassie's photo just slightly off the center as Emily had indicated, by no means hidden but not so central as to draw suspicious attention

Lindsey was positively giddy as she surveyed the line up of brutal photos, picking one out and handing it to Penelope. "This one." It seemed almost as if she was picking out a treat - like a kid in a candy store. Penelope swallowed a lump in her throat, determined not vomit.

Let her talk, Tara had encouraged. Only ask the questions if she stops talking. Lindsey ran her mouth off about the murders in the U.S. to which she had plead guilty, but those cases weren't the reason for her visit.

"Now, I understand, Miss Vaughn-" How she hated treating the snake with any kind of respect "- that you've had dealings with the FBI in the past. How would you say your previous experience with law enforcement affected your decisions?" Keep to open-ended questions - questions that can't be answered with one word.

"You mean when I was kidnapped?"

"Yes, the FBI was called in to look for you and your friend - Katie. Katie Owens?" Garcia pretended to double-check the name in her files, as if she hadn't been there. As if she hadn't listened to all of Katie's blogs about her friend Lindsey and how even at that young age she found Lindsey's dad to be creepy.

"The FBI didn't DO anything!"

Was that what she thought of them? "According to reports, an agent realized you were at the school and -" Don't mention Reid's name. Don't! Tara and Emily had been insistent on that point. If she tried to influence Lindsey's words, coerce a confession, then the tape may be inadmissible. This tape could either be considered trash, or worth its weight in gold to the defense.

"And did nothing! He didn't try to save me! He tried to save - him!"

"Him who?"

"Ryan Phillips!" she spat the name out like sour milk. "He took me! Ryan took me and killed Kate! And what does Agent Reid do? I was the the one threatened and he - he acted like Ryan was the victim. Like we were the bad guys! That's when I knew cops couldn't be trusted. You want justice, you take it for yourself. Just like my dad did. My dad was just protecting me. Self defense, no more no less. That's not a crime."

Penelope felt a chill go down her spine. That wasn't what Reid's report said. He described the stand-off as Ryan on the floor, the knife out of his reach, defenseless. Lindsey had been safe behind her father, no immediate threat to her life. "So you don't believe your father could have aided the agent in bringing Philips in peacefully?"

Lindsey hesitated before shaking her head emphatically. "No. No, Ryan was too dangerous. He would have fought his way out. My father did Agent Reid a favor."

A favor? Reid certainly hadn't seen it that way. According to her Chocolate Thunder, Reid had been shaking in the car the whole way back to the station. But that wasn't in a report.

"They didn't care!" Gone were Lindsey's gloating smirk and proud eyes. Is this a trick? A play for sympathy?

No wonder she hadn't trusted the cops, no wonder she'd agreed to the plot when Reid's name came back into her life. "Of course he cared. He went in without back up to save you. Lindsey, sweetheart, you've got this all wrong." Empathy was key number two that Emily had insisted she fake, but she wasn't faking. The poor girl. Was that why she had been so keen on getting revenge for Cat? She wanted Reid to know how it felt to have the tables turned?

"Don't call me that! Cat's the only -"

"I'm sorry, who?"

"Nothing."

She was close, so close.

"Drop it! Change the subject," Emily's order cam in loud and clear. If she got suspicious about questions pertaining to Cat, she might call off the whole meeting.

"Okay, okay, I didn't mean to upset you. Let's talk instead about Mexico. You plead guilty to the murder of Maria Diaz. What can you tell me about her?"

"Not much to tell, really. She didn't pay her debts."

"That's it? That's why you killed her? Why not hold her hostage and get your money from her family?" Oh how she hated thinking like unsubs.

"Oh please," she scoffed. "like I want to draw attention. A bullet to the back of the head is much more effective."

"Walk me through it. What happened?"

"What do you think happened?" The smirk was back.

"Well according to her file she left her hotel at 8 pm on November 23, 2016. She was reported missing the next day when she didn't meet her family. After that, the trail went cold."

"Because she met me! She wanted drugs for her customers, but she didn't have any money. I had loaned her a small amount of heroin in the past, but she wanted more drugs this time and without paying? What did she think would happen?"

"You had loaned her drugs in the past? She was from Corpus Christie. How did you find each other in Mexico?"

"There are these things called cell phones."

"Right, of course. What I meant was, did you plan to meet her ahead of time?"

"No. She called me that evening, asked if I could meet her the next morning in La Paloma -"

"La Paloma, is that -?"

"That's in Texas. I told her not to worry - that I was in Mexico just south of the border. I could meet her at the Fortinas Motel in Matomoros. I shot her an hour later."

"Don't mention anything else about Matomoros!" Emily's order warned. "Tell her you'll be back."

"Well it's been very nice to meet you, Lindsey. I wish I could stay, but my time here is short. I look forward to meeting with you again."

"As do I." She gave a polite nod in acknowledgement as Garcia gathered up her equipment and left the room.

*********

Emily Prentiss had seen her days of holding another woman's hair as she vomited, but that was usually after a fun night of partying. This was - not.

Garcia looked up from the trash can, wide-eyed and pale.. "I hate psychos."

"Don't we all?"

"How do -? Never mind." She cut the question off. It was something none of them had ever been able to satisfactorily explain to her. How could they talk to these people and look at those photos all day long?

"Are you feeling better?" Emily kept a comforting hand on her back, supporting her as they finished the walk across the prison parking lot.

Did she feel better? A little less wobbly, but her mind? Her heart? "Maybe, I guess. I don't need to throw up any more." Probably because there was nothing else left.

Emily handed the keys to Tara and climbed in the back seat with Penelope. Profiling could wait. "I'm proud of you."

"For what? I got nothing." All of that anxiety and nausea and what had she accomplished?

"That's not true." The objection came from the driver's seat. "You placed Lindsey in Matamoros."

"That's nothing new!"

"She named Reid on her own, no hint or anything. So now the prosecution will know that she remembers him from all those years ago - and you place Lindsey at the hotel where Nadie was killed on a day that Reid was in Mexico. Plus, when you go through Maria Diaz phone records, you can get Lindsey's number to cross-reference. That's a lot!"

"It's not enough! It's not good enough!" The tears were back with a vengeance. "How can you say I got 'a lot'. Reid's still -"

"Garcia?" Emily nudged the head resting on her shoulder. "Did you think you'd get a confession? Oh, Sweetie. You thought we'd be able to bring him home today? Didn't you?"

Penelope didn't even look up from Emily's shoulder. "Stupid, I know but - it worked last time!"

"Penelope, today was a fishing expedition and you've given us a lot to work with."

"Why? Why did you send me? I'm not a profiler! I hate thinking like a profiler." There was a reason, a really good reason why she turned off her webcam whenever the conversations on the jet turned to icky things.

"You know why. No other team is going to believe she's behind this, and your're the only one on the team she doesn't know."

"Do I have to go back in there? For reals?" She didn't want to go back in there, ever! Prisons were the most depressing Hell hole on the planet.

I hope not." She gave Garcia another hug. "Go, go rest."

"Rest? It's only 2 pm." She looked out the window to a familiar sight: home.

"We've got a new case in Indiana. We'll call you when we get there. In the the meantime, go rest. Take care of yourself and we'll call you in a few hours."

As Emily watched her walk safely through the gate, her mind was brought back to their conversation night before Reid's release from Millburn, when they had burned the midnight oil in a desperate attempt to put together a paper trail worthy of exoneration before anything...else happened

 _Reid dies, I quit._ She had assured her that would never happen, not really taking into consideration that they really had no control over it. No matter how many rules they bent or strings they pulled.

_Emily, I'm exhausted and it is breaking me. This whole year has been an emotional roller coaster and its like every time something happens, there's a piece of my soul that is chipped away and if one more thing goes down - I don't think there's going to be anything left._

She was going to have to tread with extreme caution or this time, she would loose Reid and Garcia from the team, forever.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reid gets a visit.

Two hours and a hot shower later and Penelope was back to her usual self...almost. This could not be this hard. Once they'd had one piece of evidence for Nadie's murder, they'd been able to unravel the entire case in a single night! She sighed, practically slamming her mug of peppermint tea down on the table. She chewed on her nails - a nervous habit, courtesy of Emily. Of course that clue had been provided by Reid. Just like the clue in the Hankel case. Why was it that Reid always had to solve his own cases? She was a fellow genius, she could solve this. She could do it, damn it!

Think, Think, Think. She drummed her fingers against the keyboard, biting her lip. She had Lindsey's cell phone number, but it was a burner. She was sure she could crack this case. She had always managed to dive headfirst into cyberspace, and she always found the treasure chest motherload, but to do that she needed a roadmap and for that she needed...parameters. Maybe a fresh set of eyes would help.

She pulled her glittery cell phone out of her purse again, finger hoovering over Derek's number. She so badly wanted to call her Chocolate Thunder and pick his brain, but Boy Wonder apparently didn't want him to be called. Last time, Emily had emphasized the importance of Reid maintaining control over the one part of his life that was still in his control. He hadn't wanted to talk to Morgan for whatever crazy ego reason his brain had conjured up. She stared at Morgan's name on the screen, debating. To call, or not to call.

"Hey, Baby Girl." What the?

Penelope spun on her heels so fast she almost tumbled over her desk chair...there was her hero, magically appearing on her webcam frame. Derek Morgan, lifting his baby boy up to the web cam.

"Hi, Hank!"

"So, a little bird named Emily told me you had a bad day."

* * *

 

 

Visitation.

The one word could send an inmate through a myriad of emotions: guilt, longing, happiness, despair. There were days of longing for it, and days of dreading it. There were even days where an inmate might prefer to stay in his cell, rather than to have all of his hopes and dreams dangled in front of him - like carrot on a stick. But when a friend - who KNOWS he isn't on your visitation list - shows up after a multi-hour trip, well it would be rude NOT to come.

Upon entering the jail visitation room, Spencer Reid had to do a double-take: booth seating with no partitions? There was a single handcuff dangling by a long chain mounted to the wall. Still, he thought as the guard changed the cuffs, this wasn't too bad. He only had to wait a couple of minutes before a very familiar face came into view. He didn't have his usual exuberance, but his strained smile was still a welcome sight.

"Morgan!" He had to cross his shackled legs under the table to stop himself from attempting to stand for a greeting.

"Hey, there, kid." Morgan took the seat opposing him as he'd obviously been instructed. "How are you holding up?"

"Pretty good, it's been better since Rossi sent a surprise."

"Do tell." It was a pleasant surprise just to see a smile on Reid's face...hopefully he wouldn't have to wipe it off.

"Rossi sent me his latest manuscript for editing. Told me to write down 'everything' I know -"

Rossi must have lost his mind, or Reid's mental state was worse than he was letting on. "Let me guess you've finished two notebooks full of 'notes'."

Reid was grinning from ear to ear. "Yup, sounds about right." He didn't need to tell Morgan that he'd been up to the small hours of the morning adding notes to the margins when he'd run out of pages. It had felt so good to get his brain back in gear. "He said I'll get a new chapter every week."

Rossi was letting Reid write his next book? Rossi never let anyone near his manuscripts with a 10 foot pole, never mind what his publisher would think about that. "Reid - why? I told you when I left that if you needed any help all you would have to do is ask. And you obviously need it."

Reid opened his mouth to deny it, but snapped his jaw shut just as quickly. "Do you have pictures of my littlest godson?"

"Do I have -?"Morgan smiled broadly. He pulled a stack out of his jacket pocket. "Boy, do I have pictures for you!"

Morgan allowed the obvious attempt at deflection, keeping an eye on his watch timer while Reid poured over the photos. It would do the kid's mind some good to have actual pleasant conversation - and nothing did that better than babies.

"Morgan, he is the cutest little thing."

"Cuter even than Henry or Michael?" Reid's look of mock outrage would have been a perfect photo. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding."

Reid turned his attention to the next photo. "Wait is he-?"

"Yup, climbing all over the furniture and scaring Savannah half - Reid? Reid, what is it?"

Reid stared at the smiling baby, proud of having climbed up on the chair all by himself. He looked so happy, such carefree innocence. Innocence that could be snuffed out like a single candle lighting up the room. He put the photo down, his eyes fixed on Morgan. "You need to leave."

"Reid, I came all the way from Chicago to see you and i still have 53 minutes left and I'm not leaving a second sooner. Why the change of mind?"

"It's not a change of mind, Morgan. There's a reason I didn't write to you in Millburn and there's a reason I didn't write to you this time." He held the picture up. "There's also a reason you left the Bureau."

"Hank? What about him?"

"J.J. and I went to interview Cat to get my mom back when I was released from Millburn and - she threatened him."

"Cat threatened Hank? Reid, she wouldn't. I mean, she got her vices but she's never hurt kids. You said so yourself."

"She was trying to figure out who else she could hurt to get to me and he came up. Mind you, I told her his name is Bobby -"

"-but she still knew about him."

"Exactly. If anything happened - I didn't mention it before because Lindsey was caught that night but under the circumstances.-

"Then I have double the reason to help out. You let me worry about my family. You have enough on your plate right now. Anyway, this isn't totally a social call."

"What do you mean?"

"What happened is you owe Garcia big time, brother. She did a ViCap interview with Lindsey."

There were many possibilities flying through Spencer Reid's slightly dulled brain, but that was not one of them."She what? Garcia interviewed Lindsey in prison?" Reid's eyes went wide. "Garcia doesn't even look at crime scene photos if she can avoid it. Why would she -?"

"Because she cares about you. She wants you home safe and she will do anything she can to prove you're innocent."

"How, though, IA banned the team -"

"From the evidence in the case -"

"-and the suspects."

"But Cruz approved the interview since she isn't officially a suspect."

"She did all of that for me?" he whispered in awe. He knew she would leave no cyber stone un-turned, but to go to a prison? She'd been in tears when she'd come back from visiting Greg Baylor - and that had been for her own peace of mind.

"And I think she's onto something." He picked up the stack of photos and plucked two of them out from the center."Do you know either of these people?" One man and one woman. Reid picked up the one of a tall man with cropped black hair and a small mustache. "Johnny. I met him...at a club meeting."

Morgan's face was frozen half way between a cheer and a groan. "Club meeting?" Their old nickname for 'Narcotics Anonymous'. 10 years on and the topic was still taboo. Damn, again. "How long have you known him?"

"He first came about three years ago. He'd had a relapse after his girlfriend left him and he'd been reassigned to Quantico. Why? You don't think -?"

"I do think."

"It can't -" Johnny couldn't be the mole. He just couldn't be.

"Reid, I don't know why you have so much faith in him, but listen to me. It IS him! It makes even MORE sense now! He transferred from the Detroit office and he worked with Shaw before his arrest."

"He wouldn't."

"He works at the BOP. He visited Shaw at Millburn three days before your transfer. He's the one who put the PC block on your file, he's also the one who arranged for them all - Durerson, Frazer, AND CAT - to be transferred out on the same flight. It's him, and his name isn't 'Johnny', it's Joel Matthews."

Reid stared at the picture, trying to wrap his mind around the thought, but it just didn't compute. Reid had confided to him, things that even the team had never known. As much as the team cared, there were things Johnny - Joel - knew that had never even crossed into conversation with the team.

"Reid, it makes sense." Or as much sense as anything did these days.

"No, it doesn't. If he wanted to destroy my career for - something, he could have -" Could have turned Reid in for his past drug use.

"He'd have to incriminate himself on drug charges, Reid, he couldn't do that." Mutually Assured Destruction. There was a reason it was called 'MAD'. "I don't know why he chose that extreme route, Reid, but he did. He's the only suspect who fits the -"

"-criteria," Reid scoffed. "Like me? If you look at my record now, I look like a -"

"DON'T SAY IT." Like a serial killer.

"How did you do it? How did you find him?"

"Garcia got Lindsey's cell phone number. He called her hours after your arrest and his phone pinged at the Brownsville crossing."

"Is it all behavioral evidence or do you have anything forensic?" Anything that could top the evidence against him?

"Not yet, but team is digging deep. We'll find it, whatever it is."

There it was again, empty promises.

"So what do we do, now?"

At least he had stopped fighting it. "We keeping digging until we find enough dirt to bury him under. Now for the good news." He picked up the photo of the woman, looking apprehensive. "Recognize her?"

"Can't say that I do."

"Well, meet the first victim."

"You got an ID? How? There wasn't enough DNA to make a full match."

"True, but the final autopsy report noted a third kidney and therefore a -" He waved an imaginary baton in Reid's direction.

"A kidney transplant patient."

"Bingo! All Garcia had to do was cross reference missing women with the age and approximate height with prescriptions for Mycophe -something."

"Mycophenolic acid? It's a common immunosuppresent for renal patients."

"And that genius brain is back. That's correct...and there was only ONE that fit all criteria."

"So let me guess, they're going to contact the family for a mitochondrial DNA test which doesn't require as much sample as an exact match."

"Crossing all fingers. Hopefully the ID can be officially made. Julia Kelting, here, is going to be your 'get out of jail free' card -"

Reid froze at the name.

"Reid? Reid, hello. Earth to Reid?"

Reid's eyes darted around the visitation room, it was too crowded, too risky. "I don't - think." He was stuttering and white as a sheet. "I think you should talk to -"

"Reid, don't tell me to call your lawyer! I'm trying to help you." He wasn't going to doubt Reid knew something, his behavior change was textbook for a...a guilty man. "Why are you lying to me?"

"I'm not."

"You just changed your story. You said you didn't know her, now you're acting like you've seen a ghost. What's going on? What are you not telling me?"

"It's true, I never met her. She was a PhD student working with Dr. Ramos for her degree in Neuroscience."

"That's a lot of info on someone you've never met before." Almost verbatim info that Garcia had given him. Please tell me you read her books. Morgan wasn't sure he could stomach any more incriminating evidence. Reid was biting his lips, his eyes darting between Morgan and the photo. "Go on." There was no doubt that Reid was withholding something.

"She was supposed to meet Dr. Ramos and I for a meeting at my mom's facility in Houston. She never showed up. Dr. Ramos suspected foul play but there was no evidence. After that, I met her in Mexico. I used my personal passport to attract less attention at the border. I was trying to keep her safe. For all the good that did."

"When was this?"

"October 17, 3 pm. When and where did she go missing?"

Morgan closed his eyes in defeat. Reid could not have given him a worse answer. "She left campus at 2 on the 17th, it's less than 10 miles from your mom."

Reid looked away, slumped in defeat. "So my alibi is that I was meeting the OTHER woman I was accused of killing. The jury will love that." Just what he needed, another nail in his coffin.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reid gets bad news - because, of course, he needs more of that. Right?

Once upon a time going to court had been simply a line on a job description: show up, watch the defense team try to lie their way out and cheer for the prosecution. Before this year, the worst that had ever happened to Spencer Reid in a courtroom was to fall asleep. Morgan had drawn fake tattoos on his arm to teach him a lesson. Now? Well Court was still a snooze fest, but instead of tattoo drawings, he 'woke up' to this nightmare.

 _Was that a pre-arranged signal to kill my mother?_ Reid couldn't tear his eyes away from his own face on the courtroom TV screen. He looked almost...deranged. _Tell me the truth!_

 _I am!_ Cat's angry voice shouted back. _You want to know the truth? Your mother is an Alzheimer's ridden moron who is getting dumber by the day and if she dies it's your fault!_

He put his head in his hands. He didn't need to see himself throw the table across the room or to see himself advancing on Cat, pinning her to the wall. His hands around her throat.

 _I'm going to kill you._ His own soft voice echoed in the empty courtroom. The tape froze and Reid finally looked up, facing the disgust in the eyes of the prosecutor. He kept eye contact, determined not to cower like a kicked dog.

The prosecutor finally turned his piercing gaze towards the bench. "This, Your Honor, is the video clip that Miss Duncan is arguing to withhold from the trial. Solid proof of the defendant's uncontrollable rage, a part of his character which the jury deserves to see."

"Your Honor, my client kept himself composed for nearly an hour while his mother was held hostage. It was not until he thought Miss Adams had ordered the murder of his mother that he reacted in such an uncharacteristically violent manner. I would ask that the Court deem the tape inadmissible after my client says 'I'm done playing games. Good-bye, Cat'. The defense also asks the Court to order a paternity test for the unborn child of Catherine Adams."

Speaking of nightmares, Cat hadn't stopped looking at him...coyly from the Witness Stand. She probably would have tried something more overt if it hadn't been for the warning in the angry eyes of her attorney.

"Objection! This claim is utterly ridiculous as is the fact that my client was transferred hundreds of miles in her present condition to perpetuate this...fantasy."

"Fantasy?" Reid couldn't help himself. "Is that what you call -?"

"Dr. Reid, it is your lawyer's job to speak on your behalf. Speak out of turn again and you'll be held in contempt."

Fiona's hand on his shoulder stopped him from rising and approaching the bench.

"Your Honor, the defense has even said that the defendant did not visit my client in prison prior to the pregnancy test results. Furthermore, the notion that a paternity test could lead to acquittal is..."

"Preposterous, I believe is the word my client used when the claim was first made on video." Fiona turned to him, barely moving her lips. "Stop it!"

"What's the matter, Spency? I thought you you wanted little Maeve to be yours." Cat was smiling...sweetly.

Reid forced himself to look away from Cat, his fists clenched under the table. Don't react, don't react. Half of his brain was itching to react, contempt charge be damned. What were they going to do? Throw him in a double jail cell? He was already in solitary, but the rational part of his brain knew better than to take Cat's bait. He had to hold on to what little credibility was left to him.

"Your Honor, it is Miss Adams who made the claim not my client. When her claim is proven to be true it will show that someone else had access to my client's semen. This would prove ample opportunity for another person to commit this crime. Withholding such evidence would be to violate my client's constitutional right to a fair trial."

Reid didn't envy the judge. He looked like a migraine patient. "With regards to Video Exhibit B, it will be entirely inadmissible."

That had to be the first time there were three calls of protest from the occupied tables: the defense, the prosecution and the witness' attorney.

Fiona couldn't believe it. She had lost more than one night of sleep over this damned tape. On the one hand, Cat mentions sending Lindsey to Mexico to dose Reid and it becomes apparent that she had inside information. On the other hand, there was -well, that. To strike it all out, would be a loss to both sides of the case.

The judge held his hand up, swiftly silencing the courtroom. Even a pin drop could have been heard with a loud echo. "It is my understanding that this tape will not in any way further the search for truth and may even cause further confusion amongst the jury. On the one hand, you have Miss Adams claiming to have somehow impregnated herself with the defendant's baby. On the other, you have the defendant claiming paternity belongs to a deceased guard who is therefore unavailable for cross-examination - which, of course, defies the defense's current claim. Furthermore, the defendant's words and actions are called into question due to the safety concern for his mother. I will, however, allow Miss Adams to be presented as a witness for the defense and the paternity test will be ordered by the Court to be submitted within 24 hours of the baby's birth. Furthermore, with the identification of the first victim confirmed, this case will move into federal jurisdiction. Court is dismissed."

*****************

Would this day never end? Back at the County Jail, Spencer went through the motions, walking alongside Timmons in a daze. His brain may have been misfiring, but he had NOT missed the slightly panicked look in Fiona's wide eyes as he'd been led out of the courtroom again. He'd have to stop looking back. He always hoped for some encouraging body language but all he'd ever gotten was gawking stares that were burned into his retinas.

"What's going on?" he asked, as soon as the door clanged shut behind them. "I'm not going to FCI Milan? Please say no. I can't go there. I can't."

Fiona's color seemed to have seeped out of her pores. "I specifically put in a recommendation against FCI Milan and for protective custody. My suspicion is that you'll go to FCI Sandstone, it's a men's facility a couple of hours from the women's FCI Waseca, but we can't know for certain at the moment."

"I can't go to Milan, I can't!" He wouldn't make it out of there alive.

"Spencer, are you listening? I said that I -"

"Put in the recommendation? Yeah, I heard. We both know what the BOP's opinion -"

"I know you're worried, but we can't do anything else about that. Right now, though, I need your attention. We have more pressing matters to discuss. Take a seat."

He did, but that didn't stop him from tapping his feet and drumming his fingers. He had way too much anxiety to just sit still. What could be more urgent than impending death threats?

Fiona eyed the nervous ticks. She would have to address that, such behavior would send alarm bells to a jury but she'd have no chance of training that behaviour out of him today. "We've got a problem."

Well apparently this was going to be a 'state the obvious meeting'. "The case is federal, of course we have a problem." A posthumous acquittal meant almost nothing to him. "Shaw is going to have my head on a silver platter."

"That's not the problem. Well, turning federal is, but for a different reason. State and Federal laws differ widely."

She was stalling, this couldn't be good. "Get to the point."

"The point, Spencer," she paused momentarily. "The federal prosecutor is offering a new plea bargain. You don't need to make a decision today -"

"I'm not interested."

"Spencer, be reasonable!"

"I am! I'm NOT guilty. That's my plea, and that's final!" He had some very colorful descriptions for what she could do with that damned paper, but kept his lips pursed in a thin angry line. She was after all, just trying to help him. "What makes you think I'd consider it for a second? I didn't take any of the others. I didn't even take 2-5 years."

"As your attorney, it is my job to make sure you have the tools to make the right choices and you can't know the right one, until you know what those choices are!"

Point well made. He put out his hand, if only to give it fake consideration. He read the paper in two seconds. This had to be a joke. He gave her a raised eyebrow in response unable to articulate...anything intelligible.

"I know it's a lot of time, Spencer."

He gaped at her like a fish out of water until he found his voice - high pitched and terrified. "What kind of a deal is this?" He looked at the paper again, hoping his eyes had been playing tricks on him. 20 to life?

"It's the kind a defendant is given...to avoid the death penalty."

"The what?"

"Michigan doesn't have the death penalty, but the federal courts do. Since this is your third accusation plus post mortem mutilation - they could allege special circumstances."

"You think they will? You think they're going to try to execute me?" Flash backs to Sarah Jean Dawes assaulted his brain. Could he really meet a fate such as hers? To walk into a death chamber knowing he'd done nothing to deserve it?

"Spencer, sit down."

When had he stood?

Fiona held his shaking hands in her own."We can't know for certain yet - it would have to be approved by the Attorney General's office, but we do have to consider it which means there will also be additional considerations to make for jury selection."

How she could be thinking so far ahead was...beyond his comprehension. She did have a point, though. It would be nice to have a jury full of Gideon's type. He had been certain of her innocence before anyone else had even considered it.

"I'm sorry, I -" He was a stuttering, rambling mess of a man who would probably collapse as soon as he stood.

"Don't be. You have nothing to be sorry for, Spencer." Fiona folded her hands in her lap, resuming a professional distance. This case...his case had tugged at her heart more than any other but she could not allow emotions to cloud her judgement. Someone had to keep a clear head and that someone was certainly not Spencer right now. "Promise me you'll consider it."

Could he? Could he actually plead guilty? "Is it an exploding offer? Like the others?"

"No, there won't be a federal arraignment. You've already been denied bail. You have until jury selection begins so that gives you -" she took the papers back, flipping to the second page - "until November 20th, that's 10 weeks away. Once a federal judge is assigned, I'll ask for a postponement if needed. When is the baby due, again?"

*"December 15."

"That's cutting it close. I'll try to get it postponed until the new year, no one wants to be in Court during the holidays anyway. That'll be time enough for test result to be finalized." Fiona turned around, ready to discuss case strategy only to find Reid with his head in his hands. "Alright, that's enough for now." His head wasn't in the proper order to discuss case strategies. "You go get some rest. If you can. Guard."

********

Luke Alvez slammed a cardboard box on the metal table, startling the shackled occupant in the opposing seat.

Shaw grinned and laughed. A rare, humorless laugh. "Come now, Agent Alvez. You're trying to scare me and it won't work."

Alvez smiled back at him, mirroring his body language with the exception that his confidence wasn't faked and he didn't look like a shadow of his former self. Despite his arrogance, Alvez couldn't help but notice the bruises decorating Shaw's face. "Have something to be scared about, Shaw?"

"Not at all."

Alvez took a seat. Digging into the box, he pulled out a file folder only to return it and pull out one twice as thick. "So, how has Milan been treating you?"

"I get by."

"Hmm. I see you've met the Brahtva brothers."

"My lawyer said you had a deal for me? Or are you playing me for the fool? Because if this is merely a bait and switch -"

"No trick. You can help us out a lot. We need information."

"I'm no snitch. I'm done playing your games. Guard!"

"Not even for your son?"

Shaw stopped, mid step, turning sharply to Alvez. He motioned the guard back, resuming his seat. "Say what?" he asked as the door closed again. "You threatening my boy?"

"Not at all. Quite the contrary. You give me what I want and I will have your transport ready."

"Back to Millburn?" The disbelief in his wide eyes was almost palpable.

"To the East Coast, yes. Millburn, no. The warden wouldn't want you reopening old drug channels. But you would be near your son again, near enough get your weekly visits back."

"Why? You took him away, why would you be so willing to give him back?"

"The thing is Shaw, we have a suspect on our hands, and you're going to help us take him down." He pulled a photo from the top of his large file folder.

The picture was of a very familiar man on a surveillance camera. Shaw sat back down, his eyes wide. "Joel Matthews?"

To the untrained eye, the surprise seemed genuine but Alvez wasn't untrained. He had him, and he knew it. "Know him?"

"Yeah, we worked together at the FBI office in Detroit." Denying such a well documented fact would have been extreme folly. "But I don't know what he's been up to lately. Haven't seen him in months." Alvez could practically see the wheels turning in his head.

"We know he visited you in Millburn quite often. He's the only one of your Bureau friends from Detroit to do so, in fact."

"See who's got the better friends. You didn't come once to see Reid. He told me so, after our 'deal'."

Alvez ignored the slight, choosing instead to pull two photos out of his case file. The first one was of a young brunette woman holding a red and white cooler in hand. "Have you ever seen her?"

"Can't say that I have."

"Her name is Lindsey Vaughn. She's a hit woman for the drug cartels who has pled guilty to 11 murders."

"If she's plead guilty, why do you need my help?"

"Because she's got an accomplice who is causing us a lot of trouble."

"I don't know -" Shaw's voice trailed off, his eyes wide and Alvez knew he had him. It was a photo of Joel Matthews now holding the portable red cooler in hand, standing right next to Lindsey Vaughn.

"This was taken at the Brownsville boarder crossing on February 15, 4 pm and before you say it's coicidence, we have a record of him calling her cell phone 10 minutes before this was taken. So either you tell me everything you know about Joel Matthews and get your son back, or you stay silent and get charged as an accomplice in which case, you can forget about parole in 13 years."

"You can't charge me! I didn't do anything -"

"Withholding information is called 'interfering with a criminal investigation' and protecting a criminal is called being an accomplice. So, yes, I could. He visited you in Millburn prison the very next day and I think you were all too...eager to hear what he'd been up to."

Shaw looked up from the from, suspicion and doubt clouding his eyes, even as a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Why? You took my son away from me. What could you want that badly that you'd be willing to give him back?"

"This about justice, nothing more or less."

"No. If that was true, you'd be questioning Matthews yourself." His face lit up in a maniacal, almost gleeful smile. "Reid's in trouble again...and you're trying to get me out of here before he gets transferred in."

Alvez said nothing. He handed him a notebook and pen. "It's time for you to decide where your loyalties lay. Do you want to stay in here with Reid and Brahtva brothers forever? Or would your rather keep your release date and reclaim your weekly visits with your son? The choice is yours."

*************

Spencer Reid tried to get comfortable, leaning back in his seat on the prisoner transport flight. It was true, what Matt Simmons had said aboard the jet during his 'extradition transport' that had broken every rule in the book. Once you had the best, it was hard to go back. What he wouldn't give to stretch out on the sofa with a blanket. This plane was like a cattle car compared to the jet.

A series of cat calls and whistles broke his train of thought. The female inmates were boarding, some of them were treating the aisle like a catwalk as if the various prison uniforms and handcuffs were the latest fashion. He shook his head as one of them sat next to him. "Ma'am." Better be polite or she could make this trip even worse than he anticipated. Never doubt that things could get worse. That was the one thing this year had taught him. Rock bottom had a creepy basement.

*PS. I know the show says Nov 15, but that's exactly 9 months after Reid's arrest. J.J. said the timeline matches Cat's claim that the baby is Reid's but as we all know a full term 40 week pregnancy is 10 months. The show writers even know that, they got it right in the 'Angel Maker' episode.


	9. Chapter 9

September 5-6, 2017

He leaned his head back against the driver seat, mentally cursing them. All of them, the day he ever met them...or anything to do with them, really. He plastered a smile on his face as he stepped out of the SUV and into the frigid cold air of the Michigan night. How in the world had this gotten so messed up? One minute he'd been at the bar with his brother-in-law and then...this.

He walked into the office, taking no notice of the scowls as Marshal Keller looked up from his stack of papers, his hand full of caffeine and sugar. "Late night, man? That's rough."

"Late night behind the wheel is even rougher. Got to take this one cross-country last minute." He hooked a thumb behind his shoulder at the holding cell.

He spared little more than a second towards the cell, determined not to make eye contact with the woman who was the source of his fury. "I might be able to take her off of your hands."

"I appreciate the offer, but there are protocols -"

"Seriously man, you can save me a lot of time and money on a plane ticket home."

Marshall Keller lowered his glasses, scrutinizing the newcomer. "You expect me to hand over a convicted killer to you -"

He flashed his credentials. "This one's got ties to the FBI. I'm taking over her transport."

The Marshall shrugged. "Sign here. Anything happens, it's on you. She's out of my hands."

He stood back as the Marshall signed off on the paperwork and removed the prisoner from the holding cell. She really had no poker face, grinning like a maniac...or maybe she wanted to get him in trouble. That seemed to be her specialty.

He took her arm perhaps more roughly than was needed as he steered her towards the patrol car and all but shoved her in the back seat.

* * *

 

Catherine Adams smiled sweetly at her escort. Perhaps her charm was wearing off, prison uniforms didn't leave much room for flattery and he looked...pissed. "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?"

"You could say that!" he growled, his eyes on the road, fists clenching the wheel. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"Don't even start!"

He clenched the wheel even tighter. He gave her a strained smile while he counted to ten. "Why in the Hell would you agree to testify for Reid, hmm? Are you trying to ruin the case? This was YOUR IDEA, remember?"

Cat slouched back in the back seat, insomuch as the shackles would allow. She stroked her stomach. "I don't expect you to understand, Agent -"

The softness in her voice took him by surprise, but not so much as her words. "Oh, so we're back to that now, are we? I'm just another petty agent you can twist in circles, well that's just lovely."

"Why do you care, anyway, Joel?"

Joel Matthews cranked the heat up, taking a sip of his now-cold coffee. "Why do I care?" he bit back, taking a precious second to glare at her smirking face. "I'm your accomplice, Cat! What are you going to do, rat me out? That's it, isn't it?"

"Don't worry, I won't rat you out."

"And I'm just supposed to what...take you at your word?"

"Doesn't look like you have much of a choice, now, does it?" She laughed, the sick maniacal way that only a bitch could. "I have an idea. Let's...play a game. Makes the time go by a lot faster...believe you me, I know A LOT about passing time." Catherine Adams pressed the side of her face up against the ice cold window of the patrol car. For the first time in a long time, she smiled at the sight of the open water...freedom was just beyond the horizon.

"No."

"Now the rules -" she continued as if she hadn't heard.

"I said 'No,' Cat! You don't get it! This is NOT a game! You can not screw up people's lives like -"

A pointed glance and narrowed eyes shut him up.

like that. He finished silently. Reid's messed up life right now was just as much his fault as it was hers at this point.

"First of all, you can stop the innocent act. I know that's not you! So, I may have failed geography in Middle School but I could have sworn that Michigan was NOT a coastal state, which means that there body of water is a Great Lake, and we should be going north, not south."

"I can't tell you where we're going. You know the rules."

"Come on, Joel, admit it, you're here to break me out, right? We're going to live up with the eskimos and play hockey for the rest of our days. Why else would you come in and take over my transport, solo...which I KNOW is against regulation. So come on. Turn around and gets us the hell out of here!"

"You think it's that easy?"

"Well, yeah, get some fake IDs and a suitcase in the car...fake extradition papers at the least. By the time the DOC has a clue, we'll be long gone."

"No, you see if I was going to extradite you then the RCMP would have to take over, so that won't work and you are in my custody so taking you across the border would make me a fugitive...and I'd be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life. So. NO!"

Cat's eyebrows disappeared into her hairline. "You're kidding me? You're already a fugitive."

"No! No! I'm your accomplice. There's a difference."

"Oh, some difference. You're still a criminal."

"A criminal with a badge, which I am not going to surrender without a fight. By your plan I might as well put a ribbon on it and hand it over to the Mounties!"

"Mounties?" she sounded incredulous. "If that's some kind of Cowboy joke, I -"

"The RCMP - Royal Canadian Mounted Police. I wouldn't have jurisdiction in Canada and I'm not keen on leaving a trail of bodies - especially when we can't pin them on Reid." Apparently there was a downside to someone being arrested for your crimes. "So, I'm going to do MY JOB. That's it!"

"So why do it, then? Why take over the transport if you're not going to help a girl out?"

He averted his eyes from the rear view mirror and the border crossings signs which quickly disappeared into the horizon. "It won't work, you know. No one would believe you, you've got nothing on me. Just heresay." He ran over the case files in his head again...no mention of a witness dumping bodies. Surely the Bureau would have come for him by now if they suspected anything.

"Then why are you so scared?"

"I'm not scared!

Yes, you are! If he hadn't been driving, he'd put his head in his hands and groan. But he was driving and he wasn't at home...he was stuck in the car with the devil's mistress for the next seven hours, trying to do damage control before his life completely derailed. Kill her! This wasn't the first time the thought had occurred to him. How had he gotten involved in this mess? Oh, right, Lindsey had threatened to rat him out as a customer, and one favor had become another and another...what he wouldn't give to be free of them!

Just do it! It wouldn't be that hard. Cut her loose and then claim self defense? That might actually qualify as poetic justice ...after all she'd killed plenty of unborn babies. Why should hers be any different? He shook his head. He couldn't do that, couldn't kill a pregnant woman. Shaw had done that and it had...eaten away at him. He was a shadow of his former self. Maybe it was prison, maybe it was guilt, but he had no desire to find out. Just stick to the case. Everything will work out in the end."It's Lindsey again, isn't it? Your precious kitten! She's got something to do with this!"

Cat said nothing, choosing instead to stroke her stomach and stare mournfully out of the window. If he didn't know any better, he'd say she was planning -something. Woe betide anyone who came between Cat and her messed up, delusional...Except she wasn't delusional. She was a mastermind, which meant she had SOMETHING in mind. There was something in this for her to gain...there had to be. Cat would never give any help like this for free - but the thought of the FBI agreeing to do a deal with her was - STOP IT. There it was again - the cyclical thinking that had kept him up all night since she'd been transferred to Michigan in the first place. Cat was after something - and she was holding her silence.

You have NOTHING to worry about! Joel tried again to console himself. Worst case scenario: Cat rats him out, there was nothing against him. Nothing at all. Border Patrol pictures maybe, he'd driven cross-country to dispose of the bodies, but there were no cameras in the woods. At most he'd be suspended for an investigation. Nothing life changing...as for Cat's testimony, it wasn't like she had been there for anything. Reid's lawyer was grasping at straws, plain as day. Whatever Cat was planning, he was safe.

* * *

 

Joel Matthews had never been so happy to see prison walls and wire fences as he was at that exact moment. Driving through the gate felt, oddly liberating. He would be free of her finally. He opened her door, pretending to be a gentleman in a performance which was almost comical "Welcome to FCI Greenburg, Illinois. Otherwise known as: Home sweet home."

"Very funny!" Cat bit back, mad at herself for having gotten her hopes lifted for nothing. She stood obediently, scowling at his cheerful smile as the next officer reviewed her paperwork. After a curt verbal confirmation that all was in order, she was ushered towards a van of new arrivals and Joel disappeared from her sight.

She walked slowly behind the nervous local inmates, many of whom were cowering at the sight of the guard towers and batons, but not Cat. The wheels in her head kept turning and turning...until it just stopped.

"Break it up, inmates!" The barked order drew Cat's attention to the adjacent prison yard. One particular inmate dropped his arm from what appeared to be a choke hold and laid on the ground as ordered...a very familiar inmate. Cat's grin could not be contained.

"Well hello, Spency!"

* * *

 

 

Spencer Reid pulled the knit cap down over his ears. The fabric was itching his newly shaved head, but that particular annoyance paled in comparison to getting pneumonia in prison...or the more immediate problem right under his nose. Sure enough, as he stepped out into the bitter cold of the prison yard, he was not surprised at all to find that the races were separated almost as if the segregation had been ordered. Almost. Most were either running or hitting the gym equipment in groups of three or more. Almost all of them were grouped by race, except for a small group of older inmates playing cards and chess at the tables. He took a seat on the cold hard cement of the walkway, well away from the yellow marching lines. Perfect for both surveillance and staying out of trouble. He wasn't about to assume that bleechers and benches were free territory.

Keep your head down and stay out of trouble. That was going to be his mantra this time. A fresh new start..a clean slate.

A quick call to the team after breakfast had informed him that he NOT incarcerated with anyone who would recognize him from a case. The relief her words had provided was so profound that it felt as though another weight had fall off of his shoulders. He leaned his head back against the stone wall and allowed himself a momentary luxury of closing his eyes, something he never would have thought about in Millburn.

He was brought out of his reverie by heavy footfalls surrounding him. He opened his eyes to see himself surrounded by three men - each sporting a broad smile which might convince a newcomer, but Reid could see the predatory gleam in their eyes.

"Good morning, gentlemen," he greeted as he climbed back up to his feet. A bit of respect, even apathy, might just throw them off of their game. "Great day to be alive, isn't it?" His chipper smile belying the terror that lurked underneath as he turned his back towards the yard. It was a frightening move, but necessary to avoid being pinned against the wall.

Taking note of the strategic move, the leader of the group chuckled. "You've done time before, I take it."

He bit back his usual reply. Nothing put a target on an inmate's back faster than a claim of innocence. "What makes you say that?"

"A newbie would never be smiling or closing his eyes. I'm Miles. This is Stewart and that's Williams. So what's your name, boy?"

"Reid."

So what makes you so happy to be in FCI Greensburg, Reid?"

"I've got friends in Chicago." Don't mess with me. No need to mention that he'd feared death threats or worse in Milan.

"Think your so-called friends are going to travel 8 hours total to come see you?"

"Considering I got visitation in Michigan and Washington, I'd say yes." The thought of seeing his best friend again brought a rare smile to his face. Now that he'd gotten through the humiliation, he found that he was actually looking forward to a visit.

Miles looked begrudgingly impressed. "Damn, you've been down for some time, then? How much have you got left?"

"I don't count the days." He had started out like that, but it got tedious and aggravating...and everyone had advised against it. Small wonder, they were right.

"So what did you do on the outside?" Stewart interrupted before Miles could continue the 'interrogation'.

"Professor." Guest lecturing had to count for something.

"Professor of what?"

"Criminology."

The word was met by a round of laughter. "Looks like the good professor needs to go back to school." Miles made a move to pull Reid closer, but Reid, anticipating this, ducked under Miles. He threw both of his arms around Miles' throat as he backed into the wall.

Williams and Stewart looked every bit ready to rip Miles out of his grasp, which Reid tightened until he heard Miles gag slightly, clawing at his captors arms, but Reid kept his grip firm. "Just so you know, whatever you've got going here: gangs, contraband..anything like that? I want NOTHING to do with it! Leave me alone, I leave you alone! Got it!"

A shrill whistle sounded from behind. "Break it up, inmates!"

Reid released his arm and dropped to the ground, his eyes never leaving his fellow inmates who followed suit. "Got it?"

"Yes!" The round of whispered replies was enough for Reid, who sealed his mouth at the guard's approaching. He stood, hands behind his back without a fight, a small twisted smile tugged at the corner of his mouth when a familiar voice wiped it away.

"Well hello, Spency!"

What the- ? Only one person called him that. He turned sharply in the guards' grip, his neck practically on swivel as he caught a glimpse of the speaker before disappearing into the building. Oh hell no!


	10. Chapter 10

September 6, 2017

Reid had never been one to criticise the fact that he was the only person who could read at lightning speed, but Counselor Miller seemed to be taking his sweet time with his file. He supposed he should not have cared, after all, time didn't exactly have the same value in prison. There were no killers on the loose with minutes or even seconds to find the victim alive. No, all of the killers were here - and if he had to wait one more minute with his hands cuffed behind his back -

"Inmate Reid!"

Reid managed to keep his poker face up as he looked the glaring counselor in the eye. Two could play at this game.

"You've been here for 12 hours - I've been here for ten years. I know what you're trying to do. Thankfully - or unfortunately, for you - there was no injury to Inmate Miles, which means no disciplinary hearing and therefore no disciplinary segregation."

Well there went his chance to get out of the dormitory cell block and into protective custody.

"I've never even heard of a pre-trial federal agent in the general prison population which means you have some serious enemies in Washington. Enemies, I don't want to meet. However, politics aside, we here at Greensburg take the security of our inmates as a top priority, so if you and Miles had any problems on the outside - ?"

"No, we've never met before."

"No gang affiliations?"

"No."

"I see. Well you're still in one piece so you obviously knew to keep your mouth shut."

"I told them I was a professor. I've done guest lecturing in the past so it wasn't a total lie." Careful. There was a day when he would have been caught in a lie of any kind in two seconds flat.

"You better get that flawed logic out of your head before trial. Juries don't exactly like a half-truth."

The whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God. Indeed. Reid said nothing, pursing his lips in a tight seal as he considered how he was going to survive another day. He'd been banking on being threatening enough to qualify for P.C. without the need for poison or self-harm, not that he currently had the tools available for either.

"Well if you meet anyone here who you specifically consider a threat to your safety, I need to know -"

"There is, actually. Catherine Adams - I saw her arrive when I was in the yard."

"The women are in their own prison on the other side of the property. She won't be a problem. - "

"You're wrong! She bribed a guard to kidnap my mom!" Reid insisted vehemently as the guard pulled him to his feet and led him out of the office.

* * *

 

 

Spencer Reid had been in many dangerous situations in his life, but he was convinced, there was no more dangerous place on the planet than a holding cell. He knew none of the men surrounding him and had no creds, no back-up: nothing. Back-up of course could come in the form of guards, but he wouldn't be willing to place a bet on it.

Speaking of bad bets.

"Long time, no see, Spency! Did you miss me?"

CAT! The damned...bitch. Ignore her. Ignore her. Thankfully she was in the neighboring holding cell, but an ocean apart would not have been enough space between them. Oh how he missed solitary confinement, psychological torture though it was.

"You know him?" It was Miles, poking his nose in where it didn't belong from the holding cell on the other side of him.

"Know him?" Cat scoffed. "He's my Baby Daddy."

"Well your Baby Daddy tried to choke the life out of me!"

Reid didn't like the smile that lit up Cat's face in his peripheral vision. She looked almost...proud, but it was gone in an instant. "He does have quite the temper, doesn't he? But he wasn't always like that, were you, sweetie?"

Sweetie? Oh she was milking this for all it was worth. He balled his hands into fists, biting his lip. He was aching to retaliate and put the story straight, but he knew better than to discuss his open case with strangers. Not that anyone here would believe the truth anyway. She's not worth getting angry at. She's not worth getting angry at...

"You should have seen him on our first date. It was so romantic. We went to a nice restaurant, he brought me a rose like a perfect gentleman. Seems like a lifetime ago, doesn't it, Spency?"

It sure did, almost felt like an out-of-body, hellish reincarnation to be more accurate. Get me out of here! He walked up to the door, peering between the bars, hoping to see a guard coming his way. Meanwhile, Cat was enjoying the attention the other men were giving her. Just what she needed...an audience.

"All it took was that one date, and I knew he was going to be my man!"

"I'm not your man!"

Reid clung to the bar, trying to find a strategic position as a large man with neck tattoos invaded his personal space and cracked his knuckles. "I ought to teach you some manners, boy! That's no way to talk to your Baby Mama!"

"I don't even know it is, could be Wilkins' kid." How long did it take to review a housing assignment, anyway? He'd been here for what? Three hours?

"I think he's learned his lesson haven't you, Spency? Although, I have other stories I could tell if you would rather - like the last time you visited me in prison! I'm sure the men would love that one."

Reid gulped, audibly, a mistake he realized a millisecond too late. The last thing he needed was for the other inmates to find out he'd tried to choke a pregnant woman, especially in front of a man offering to beat him up. "No!" He shook his head, emphatically. "That's -"

Cat hadn't ratted him out as an agent yet. He was more than a little shocked by that, but as Fiona kept telling him Don't question your blessings. Diversion, diversion, must find diversion. "Where did you get those contact lenses?" Really, Reid, you couldn't think of anything better?

"Inmate Reid!"

Reid turned his attention the officer unlocking the holding cell. Finally. "Right here, sir." He turned his back to the bars for the handcuffs and hurried out of the cell as fast as allowed.

* * *

 

It struck Reid as odd that he no longer cringed at the sound of bars and locks. In fact, it sounded a bit comforting as he surveyed his new housing assignment: Pod D. It was lone large day room of payphones and tables surrounded by a single guard station and two tiers of cells. He quickly found Cell 18 as listed on his new wristband, but decided not to go in just yet. There would be time enough for that later. Cat couldn't communicate with anyone in here. He was safe, for the moment at least. He collapsed into a plastic patio chair as he picked up the payphone. Waiting, hoping..."REID! OMG! DO NOT DO THAT TO ME AGAIN!"

Reid held the phone an inch from his ear, glaring at it.

"Boy Wonder, you need to call EVERY DAY! Do you hear me? Every day...I was so worried. I thought -"

"Garcia, I was in Court all day yesterday and then on an airplane. I haven't exactly - "

"AIRPLANE?"

"It's called a transfer - to Illinois. Greensburg to be exact."

"That's not right, why haven't I -"

"If my lawyer hasn't told you yet, it's because I doubt she knows yet." He hoped she got the message that she wasn't supposed to know. Reminding her that she was being recorded would be a glaring alarm to the guards listening in. Maybe he should have called Emily. "Don't worry, Emily checked the BOP website this morning, I'm safe." The words felt foreign to his lips but the sigh of relief from Garcia was enough to stop him from mentioning Cat. Part of his brain had been filled with a desire to report this to the team - but what could they do? Nothing. If his time at Milburn had taught him anything it was that he was on his own. For all of their compassion and desire to help, there was in actuality very little they could do.

"So none of the old unsubs are in with you -?"

"No." All of the criminals they'd arrested in Illinois were thankfully in state prisons. "But there is something you can do to help."

"Anything!"

"Cat volunteered to be witness for me. I know, it sounds crazy...like Munchausen's crazy." Except that Munchausen's Syndrome was normally people harming those they loved so they could appear to come to the rescue. There was no love anywhere in this case...so why the thought of rescue? She wanted something, but she hadn't said what exactly. "I need you to find her father."

"Reid, I already -"

"I know, I know we tried but we need to try again. Cat doesn't exactly have much credibility and she has nothing to lose." What was a perjury charge to someone in for life? The fact that his freedom relied on Cat's integrity was - insane. "The only thing she wants is her father -"

"- and Lindsey," Garcia added. "What if she wants to make a deal to have Lindsey transferred to Waseca with her?"

That was not a bad idea. "Okay so say Lindsey agrees to a plea deal to confess to the Ramos case in exchange to a transfer to -" How on earth could he handle both of them - but Garcia didn't know -. "That could work. The plea deal being contingent upon truthful testimony." That way Lindsey would only arrive here once he left.

"So they would both need to cooperate in order for the deal to go through."

It sounded wonderful except... "It won't work. Cat won't trust me, not after I lied at the restaurant. So if I right that wrong -"

"Reid, you didn't owe her -"

"If I right that wrong -" he interrupted, not wanting to discuss moral obligations to serial killers, not when his time was almost out, "- then she will have more reason to trust that the second part of the deal would go through." If he gave them everything at once, there was no carrot at the end of the stick, nothing to keep them in line. A siren-like noise echoed throughout the cellblock. That could only mean one thing. "Find him, find Daniel Adams. I've got go, bye."

* * *

 

A long case done, the team was flying home and yet Garcia couldn't leave the office. There were only so many ways to fall so far off the grid that not even she could find a cyber bread crumb to follow. Since Daniel Adams didn't have a death certificate, he had either taken a new name or he was unidentified in a morgue somewhere.

Wanting to assume that not all hope was lost, she began piecing everything together from the time he returned to the States in 1988. From there he had killed his wife for reasons unknown - and had done a way too short stint in state prison for manslaughter. He'd plea bargained out for 5- 10 years and had somehow gotten out in 3. That got her as far as 1992. He'd gotten out of prison and then what? She had searched through the foster care records only to find - nothing. There was no evidence of Daniel Adams trying to reclaim his little daughter? Why though? Maybe he thought she was still safe with her widowed Grandma Rose who had died a year after taking custody?

Putting aside all potential pity for Cat - who didn't really deserve it after all she'd done - Garcia turned back to her timeline. There were a few arrests for drunk and disorderly conduct, car theft, but nothing spanning more than a six month jail sentence all through the early 90s. He'd remarried a woman named Bethany in 1992 who had died in a drive-by shooting four years later. Why did this sound so - ?

Oh you've got to be kidding me.

She threw her feather-pen down half an hour later scowling at her screens as she picked up her mug of hot chocolate, looking into the all too familiar face of Daniel Adams' most recent driver's license photo from 1996. She wished she was wrong, but it made sense: like the last twisted piece of 5,000 piece jigsaw puzzle. The last few cyber searches of the jail records had confirmed her fears.

After his release from prison, he had joined the mob and been arrested with other members of the Irish mob - including the McCrelin brothers. Only after his new wife was killed in a hit and run, and for the protection of his new daughter, did he agree to become a State Witness.

Daniel Adams had fled to Witness Protection...to become Jack Vaughn.

**** Note:

I should mention that from here on out a lot of my ideas have come from prison documentaries such as the Lock Up series from MSNBC. As for Daniel Adams becoming Jack Vaughn, that was my theory before the finale revealed that Cat and Lindsey as lovers.


	11. Chapter 11

If there were two words to accurately describe prison then boredom would be at the top of the list, second only to fear.

"Gin."

Boredom was winning today. Reid pretended to pout as he laid down his own mismatched cards. It wasn't natural for him to intentionally lose, but it was safer than his cellmate - who easily outweighed him by 50 pounds - thinking he was a cheater. He shuffled the deck. "Best out of three?"

His cellmate - Paul Peterson - shrugged. "Not like you got anything decent to trade. I've already got enough stamps."

There were times when Reid was tempted to use his commissary money. It didn't seem right to let the generosity of his friends go to waste, but then again people couldn't take what he didn't have. One less thing to cause a fight. Besides, prison food wasn't that disgusting - hospital food was worse and he'd survived on that before.

"When do you think they're going to lift the lockdown?" Three days holed up with this virtual stranger was three too many. He was tempted to ask what the man was in for, but knew he'd be in hot water if the question was turned on him. No one wanted to be cellmates with a man accused of a double homicide.

"As long as it takes for the guards to find what they're looking for."

"What exactly would that be?"

"I don't know. You tell me.. _.Officer_ Reid."

Reid did a double-take, his eyes wide. "Sorry?"

"You heard." Paul smirked. "Only four types of people try to P.C. up with a non-lethal pre-emptive attack on day one. Based on your photos of your godsons taped to the wall of your bunk, I'm going to guess that you're not inclined to hurt kids. You don't exactly seem to have a way with women based on how you treat the mother of your baby -"

"She's not - !"

"I know, I know," Paul soothed his now distraught cellmate, "It's all on Wilkins, right? The point is, you hate her and yet she doesn't seem to be afraid of you. So I doubt you've abused her. You don't have any gang tattoos. So if you're not a child abuser and you're not a wife-beater, and you're not a gang drop out, there's only one other class of inmate who would try to P.C. up on day one. You were a cop on the outside." It wasn't a question.

Reid said nothing, choosing instead to pick up another card. Silence, though, spoke volumes all on its own...almost as much as his visibly shaking hand. Damn, what had Gideon told Max Ryan about unsubs? _Oh come on, we all know they're the best profilers. They admire each others' work._ What would Gideon's advice be right now, anyway?

Paul laughed. "Relax, man. I'm on short-time. I just want to pay my debts and get the hell out of here. I don't want any trouble."

Reid breathed a long sigh of relief "Cheers to that!" He raised a plastic cup of apple juice in a mock toast.

"To not causing each other any trouble." Paul knocked his own cup to Reid's then downed the contents in one big gulp. "Might as well tell you, it's not exactly a secret. I was a lifer. Got my sentence commuted down to 20 years. 16 years of credit for time served. Overnight, I was suddenly down to four years and that was over a year ago. My lawyer put in for a security classification revision. I'm hoping to get into a minimum which means no write-ups allowed on my record for the next six months."

"I won't cause you any trouble," Reid assured him. "Gin."

"Good game." He picked up the cards and put them back in his side of the cupboard, sealing it with a swipe of the combination lock. "So the woman who is not -"

"She won't be a problem for you."

"For your sake, I hope she isn't."

* * *

 

There was only one reason why a guard would pick up an inmate from his cell after dinner, during lockdown. So he wasn't too surprised to see Fiona in the cold, dull, visitation room. He was, however, not prepared to see - "Hotch?" His mouth fell open as the cuffs were removed. "What - how?" It was too dangerous! How could he leave Witness Protection? Leave Jack?

The guard left and Hotch just shook his head, not wanting to believe his eyes. "Reid, you've gotten into some pretty big holes, but this?" He put down the file he'd be reading. "Garcia called me last night. I'm not in the Program anymore, haven't been for almost a month."

"So Scratch isn't a threat anymore?" That didn't make any sense. According to the profile, Scratch would never stop killing unless...

"He's dead." Hotch confirmed. "One of Steven Walker's associates spotted him in Tegucigalpa. So he rejoined the BAP and they got him in Honduras."

"That's great." In another life, this would have called for a celebratory night out...but there was business to attend to. To that point, what was Hotch doing here - ?

"It is," Hotch agreed."

"So you're back on the team?"

Hotch shook his head. "No, Jack needs me more than the Bureau. I know my law experience is in prosecution, not defense, but if you want the extra help - pro bono, I -"

"Yes!"

"You're not even going to ask him about the case?" Fiona shook her head. A defense lawyer always spoke to the client about the case before an agreement.

"I've known Reid for 14 years, he's not a killer or a rapist."

She was going to have to talk to the team again about sharing unauthorized information. "Would you like to hear some good news for a change?"

"I'm listening." Good news sounded like a dream come true.

Hotch took a stack of rubber banded photocopied papers out of his briefcase. "Alvez got Shaw out of Milan for you by offering him a deal. In exchange for incriminating evidence on Joel Matthews, he got a transfer to FCI Cumberland in Maryland, three hours from D.C., but only one hour from his son. The bad news -"

Of course there was bad news, too.

"- is that Matthews has gone off the grid. Cleaned out his bank account, his apartment was vacant when the team went to question him."

"So he's running." Look of a guilty man if there ever was one.

"We've issued a subpoena," Fiona added. "So when he doesn't show to Court at least there will be a valid reason to arrest him when he shows his face again."

Who knew how long that could be? "Valid reason - what about this?" Reid gestured to the stack of papers. Assuming it was his copy to keep, he would be pouring over it all day and night even if it only took a minute to read.

"That only contained enough evidence for Bureau termination - not arrest. The team was going to use it as leverage against him: 'tell us what you know about Cat and Lindsey and we won't turn you in'."

"Too late for that now."

"Speaking of Cat and Lindsey -"

Reid listened with undivided attention, sucked into the tale that seemed - impossible. "Wait, they're sisters?"

"Half-sisters," Fiona corrected. "Both daughters of Daniel Adams but different mothers."

"So how - ?" How could he gain Cat's trust by reuniting her with her father whom she hated but Lindsey loved? He groaned. This kept getting more and more twisted. Oh dear God. "Do they know?"

"Not yet. I'm going to let Jack break that to them. The girls - Lindsey or Katelyn, to use her proper name - might be more willing to listen to him than us."

"So now we need Jack's help too?" He needed the help of an entire family of psychopaths. "Great."


	12. Chapter 12

If there was anyone who walked the straight and narrow path, it was Aaron Hotchner. That was perhaps why he was glad he was no longer the BAU unit chief. He wasn't going to get caught in the cross-hairs of Alvez twisting a marshall's arm to get a witness protection location. Perhaps he should have been more alarmed at how easy it was to find Jack Vaughn at the local grocery store parking lot of Beloit, Wisconsin. But, he supposed, it was just like old times. His old team had done their share of skirting the law: the Ian Doyle case leapt to the front of his mind. It was no wonder that agents were supposed to stay away from cases to which they had a personal connection. He could only hope that this wouldn't come back to bite Reid.

That wasn't an option.

He stood patiently next to the door of the interrogation room in the Milwaukee field office, Agent Mills was an exceptional agent, but Hotch didn't like the doubt lingering in his eyes.

"Agent Hotchner, are you sure? You got the clearance for this? Going to the Marshalls service when you're an inactive agent? How?"

"It's been cleared." That was all Mills needed to know. "I'd like to be in the room, if that's okay?" Asking permission didn't come easily, but this wasn't his case.

"Of course." Apparently his reputation proceeded him.

"Let's go." Hotch led the way, once again coming face to face with the man who sent him the most uneasy signals. It went against everything in his brain to treat a killer as a victim. That case had left a knot in his stomach every time he thought about it. Like George Foyet, a deal with the devil had let him walk free for far too long. It was time to right that wrong. "Mr. Adams." His greet was curt and to the point - many points.

Jack Vaughn made no effort to correct him, but he also didn't look worried. Bored, maybe...

"Agent Hotchner. What is your team's fascination with me these days?"

"This is about your daughters." He slapped two photos in on the table. "Lindsey Vaughn or should I say Katelyn Adams and her older sister, Catherine Adams."

"Kitty?" His eyes were pulled to Cat's photo almost as if it were magnetized. "What happened?" His concern...at least looked genuine. "Is she okay?"

"She's not a victim if that's what worries you." It was one thing to have Garcia bring this insane theory to him, it was another for Jack to recognize her picture, to make no objection to the name. "She's pregnant... and currently in prison, but she’s safe.."

"Well if you want the goods on her, agents, I'm afraid I can't help you. I haven't seen her since she was four."

"We don't need the goods on her. She's currently in for life on four murder counts and conspiracy." They were sure there were more, but their objective had been met. "She's no longer a danger to society." Or so they had thought. "Katelyn, on the -"

"Don't call her that!"

"I'm sorry. Is that not her real name?"

"It is, but I've known her as Lindsey for far longer. And Katelyn...she stopped being Katelyn after her mother died. There's no way Bethany would have raised her like -"

"You mean if she had stayed as Katelyn - if she had never witnessed your murder - she never would have become the woman who is currently incarcerated on 10 counts of murder."

"Exactly. I should have listened to him. I've never regretted anything more in my life. Your Agent...Reid. The skinny kid who was coloring in maps and looking into my computer. He told me this would happen, that Lindsey's life would be about violence. Her life would have been so much better.”

When does it end, Jack? It would never end. It was too late.

"Funny that you mention him." Actually it wasn't 'funny' at all.

Jack understood in a heartbeat. “I'm sorry about what happened to him in Mexico, what Lindsey did to him. I'm just glad he's...okay. Out, at least."

Hotch pulled another file out of his folder: Reid's mugshot from the county jail in Michigan. "He's not. He was arrested two months later. We're certain that Lindsey's working with someone on the outside to set him up."

"I'm so sorry." He genuinely sounded distressed. He looked like the ghost of his former self, but Hotch wasn't going to take him at his word. Actions were the only thing that mattered.

"Good, then you can help us."

"How? I have no idea what she's been up to. She doesn't talk to me much anymore, not of anything of importance anyway."

"But she'll talk to you."

"You want me to turn my back on my daughter -? "

"You already did that...and too many people have paid the price for it. Your daughters have already been convicted for multiple murders. They will both be incarcerated for life no matter what you do at this point, but you can still save my agent because he doesn't deserve this. He doesn't deserve to go down for your daughter's crimes, not after he tried to save Katelyn!" Technically, no ever deserved that but best to appeal to his protective paternal side if this had any hope of working.

"And if I refuse?"

"I thought you wanted to help him?"

"Not at my daughter's expense. I'm sorry, but I'm her father. Protecting her is my first priority. It always has been, it always will be."

Hotch raised an eyebrow, imaging him saying those words to Cat. "Well then do it for yourself."

"You think helping one man is going to what - settle my debts? Make up for everything I've done?" He scoffed. "There is no redemption for me."

"No, there isn't. Agent Mills?" He would have to take over as the official agent. Hotch was, after all, only consulting...officially.

Mills, who had been standing in the background, supervising, took a seat. "Mr. Adams, if you help us, if you talk to Lindsey and give us the information we need to get a confession from her, then we're prepared to offer you a deal of 5-10 years at the same facility as your daughters."

"A deal? For what? You can't charge me! My testimony came with immunity!"

"For the crimes associated with the McCrelin Corp., yes. But the brothers walked. Your testimony put away three hitmen such as yourself. It took another 10 years for another associate to turn State Witness. They were finally convicted of lesser felonies in April. Quite frankly, your usefulness to the State has run its course and WitSec was only too eager to see you pay. And since there's no statute of limitations on murder, you are finally under arrest for the murder of Ryan Phillips."

Two Weeks later

Penelope Garcia hated psychopaths...really, really hated them.

She tugged at the purple scarf around her neck, Reid's purple scarf. His favorite purple scarf. "I'm doing this for you, Boy Wonder." She could only hope it was the last time. She triple-checked the camera settings, the battery...it wouldn't do to miss. Anything.

The guard brought in Lindsey, shackling the woman to the chair as requested.

"Miss Vaughn, it's nice to see you again." She was glad she hadn't eaten this time. She was sure vomiting in front of Lindsey would have given the whole game up, and it had been a near-miss last time.

"Agent Garcia." Even in prison she couldn't help strutting. Her head held high. It didn't look like this place had fazed her at all.

Time to wipe that smile off her face. "Let's see." Garcia turned her attention to the scattered photographs. "Part of our ViCap program is studying not only a killer's method, M.O. and signature, but also the motive. As the saying goes, let the punishment fit the crime. So why did these victims deserve this ultimate punishment?"

It wasn't hard to get her talking. Her convoluted logic was sending Garcia's head in circles...even though she'd heard it all before. It was greed and revenge: plain and simple. Combined with the mind of a psychopath and no morales, it was clearly a dangerous combination. Except, she did have morals of some kind. Hotch said she would go with Katie Owen sometimes, to make sure she was safe. That was what had gotten them both abducted.

"Well if they deserve it so much...why stop there? After all, what Phillips did to your friend, Katie -"

"Don't talk about her! She didn't deserve - "

"She was innocent. It's hard to watch an innocent friend suffer." Oh how true that was. "So, what about her?" Garcia picked up Cassie's photo, leaving the bottom one to stick out slightly. "We couldn't find any drug cartel traces to her, so why did she deserve it?"

The answer of course, was that she didn't...and Lindsey knew it. Garcia didn't take her eyes off of Lindsey's startled face. If she caught on... "Her name was Cassie - "

"I remember."

"She wasn't left in the desert. She was found in an apartment with...several surveillance photographs, which suggests that you wanted her found. Why? You'd gotten away with so many kills. Why was hers so different?"

"It was personal."

"Personal? The only connection to you was the weapon you used. There was no overlap among any social circles that we could find."

"She was in my way. Wrong place, wrong time. That was all."

"Then why not go back and hide the body? Why leave the pictures? You were obviously trying to send a message. Now is your chance."

"It was received...and I was arrested that night. So I had no chance to move it."

Garcia had to struggle to maintain composure as Lindsey's smile disappeared. "Okay, we don't have to talk about it. It's your story, but if you don't want to tell it." Garcia shrugged. Interrogation tactics were...essentially forbidden. But that didn't mean that she didn't have any tricks up her sleeve.

"How about another picture?" Take it, take it. Garcia had deliberately placed the photos haphazardly across the table, one in particular was partly obscured under the stack. She crossed her ankles under the table to stop the nervous taping.

Lindsey pushed photo after a photo aside, looking for -

Yes!

Lindsey's eyes went wide, her eyes glued to the photo of a smiling brunette in a bright red jacket. Clearly not the one she had been looking for, and yet her eyes were drawn to it. "Julia Kelting?"

Yahtzee! She wanted to jump up and dance, but it wasn't quite time for celebrations.

"No, no, no!" Lindsey was panicking, devolving.

"So you do remember. Tell me, what did she do? What did a neuroscience student in Texas do to deserve a bullet to the head?"

"I want my lawyer!"

"Why?" Penelope pursed her lips, pretending to look confused. "You're already in for 10 murders. What could one -?"

"We're done."

That we are. Penelope smiled towards the two-way mirror as she disconnected the camera. 

Mission accomplished.


	13. Chapter 13

Of course desperate times called for desperate measures, but this was a mistake. More than just a simple mistake, it was pure madness.

He pulled out a chair which she accepted with a satisfied smile on her face. "I knew you still had some manners left in you, Spency. Did you miss me?"

Reid sneered behind her back. He missed her about as much as he missed Anthrax. The analogy was more apt than he cared to admit. "We need your help."

"Of course you do, that's why you summoned me to court - cross country at that. It's quite lucky that we're neighbors, don't you think?"

"It wasn't luck." Fiona pulled up a seat next to Spencer, both of them on the opposite side of the table from Cat. "The move was meant to limit the amount of travel time you would have to court in your third trimester. Had it not been for your pregnancy, he probably would have been moved to FCI Sandstone, a men's prison 3 hours from the women's FCI Waseca."

Reid glared at Fiona. His rage mounting at the audacity of her words. Without that damned pregnancy there never would have been a case. Without her spawn, he would be back on the team putting psychopaths like her away. In here, where they belonged, not him. But he kept his mouth shut. He had to practice at some time, lashing out in open court wouldn't exactly help his case.

"Before we proceed," Fiona wasn't even looking at him, "I need to make sure, Miss Adams, that you understand that you have the right to have your lawyer present."

Cat smiled sweetly. "I know, but I'm doing you this favor against his advice."

"Favor?!"

"Spencer!" Fiona was getting really tired of reminding him about his current place in life. They had discussed this at length before Fiona had even approached the warden about allowing them in the same visitation room.

"Yes, Spencer...a favor. Unless you'd like to explain to your jury how you came to be framed for murder - twice. You need my help."

Cat smiled smugly, while Reid shot Fiona a look of pure exasperation. Why did he get the sense that he was a fly...and what spider would volunteer to unravel the web? Nothing good could come of this, but their options were limited and the answers were just barely out of reach. They needed a helping hand...preferably one that wouldn't let him fall from the precipice. "Okay, if you and Lindsey planned everything together, then tell us about the second victim." Preferably something that could lead to an ironclad alibi.

"You already know her name, shouldn't 'the team' be able to do the rest? I mean, you are a genius, right?"

"I'm not talking about Julia Kelting, I'm talking about the second victim."

"She is the second victim. There was the one in Mexico, then her."

"No, there was Nadie Ramos in Mexico, then Julia Kelting in Michigan, and -"

"Michigan?" Cat gave out a long-suffering sigh. "Spency, your poor brain. Julia was killed in Texas. I think you're getting your cases mixed up."

"He's not mixing up anything." Fiona pulled some files out of her briefcase. "Julia's missing person report was filed in Texas, but her body was found in Michigan, a few yards away from another unidentified woman. The third victim Lindsey has killed to frame him, but the second one mentioned in this indictment."

"There must be some mistake. When Lindsey and I were planning this, she mentioned that there was a name missing from her indictment. One of her victims had not been found. She didn't mention a second."

"There's no mistake, Spencer's semen was found in both of them." Fiona caught Spencer hiding his face behind clenched fists through her peripheral vision. "Which means someone is lying."

"Not me. I don't cheat, he does!"

"Well someone is lying!" Reid's clenched fists were at his side now. Cooperating with Cat seemed to have used up the last of his patience. "And unless I get my answers, there won't be any reward."

"I didn't ask for a reward," Cat countered, smiling sweetly. "I'm doing this from the goodness of my heart!"

"You don't have a heart and I'm not an idiot." He grabbed the back of Cat's chair, his face an inch from her ear. "So, here's how it's going to go. You testify truthfully to every question on this case, and I'll give you all of the information I have on your father."

Cat laughed. "Well I'm not on an idiot either, Spencer. You know the old saying 'fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.' I'm not falling for that trick again."

"No trick." Reid took a look at the photos of Jack Vaughn that Fiona held out to him and selected the close-up from the grocery store parking lot. He handed it to Cat. "As they say, better late than never. We found him, two weeks ago."

Cat's haughty smile disappeared, her eyes transfixed on the photo. For one fleeting second, he could see her as a lonely, scared child. "Daddy?"

"Yes." Reid took back the photo with a forceful tug. It wouldn't do for her to send it to Lindsey. "Testify for us and get Lindsey to cooperate, and we'll give you his information. Then you can go after the man who really hurt you." Then maybe, just maybe, she would leave him alone.

* * *

 

The guard escorted Cat out of the visitation room, leaving Reid alone with Fiona again. "Do you think it'll work?"

"Cat wasn't in Mexico. Other than what she did with your semen - anything else she says will be considered -" There it was again. Reid hiding his face in his hands. He was losing his grip on objectivity for a man who spoke about sexual assault cases on a regular basis. "Spencer, you can't -"

"Don't tell me what I can't do. I get that all day every day." He was back on his feet, pacing like an angry tiger in a cage, circling the ringmaster.

"I'm just saying the jury will - "

"I don't care about -!"

"Well you should!" Fiona jumped to her feet, cutting of his pacing mid-stride. "Their opinions are the only thing you should be caring about. How you present yourself to them will be all that matters in that courtroom, because they make the decision to send you home or to keep you here! So unless you want to think of this place as 'home sweet home' you need to change your attitude right now!"

Fiona put a calming hand on his shoulder, but it seemed to agitate him even more. He tried to shake her off, but she grabbed his other hand in a silent tug of war. She had to beat him down in to submission. "Spencer, look at me."

He did, his heavy breathing ringing in her ears, his eyes hard and narrowed.

"Calm down."

She waited while he took a few deep breaths, but it did nothing to diminish the hatred in his eyes. "The new federal prosecutors will see the prison tape. And because it is inadmissible, they will try every trick they can think of to get under your skin and to get a violent reaction from you that the jury can see. So you need to calm down."

"You don't understand. I just feel so -" When Cat had mentioned what Lindsey had done to him under the influence of scopolamine, he had dismissed it. There was no way he could be that suggestible. There was no way that had happened, and yet - the proof was at the scene. It had happened - it had actually happened.

"Violated." I know. "But if you react in court, if you lash out - it will be a reflection not on them, but on you. You're better than that. Don't let them win."

"You don't know me." Was he better than them? Did he even know himself anymore? Even an hour before the incident, he never would have thought himself capable of putting his hands on a woman like that. And yet - ?

"I know Emily Prentiss - have since I was a teen. I also know she has very good character judgement. So as they say, a friend of hers is a friend of mine."

He gently pulled away and took his seat, his eyes downcast. "You never answered my question: do you think this will work?"

Fiona took Cat's vacated seat, glad that Spencer's sensibility seemed to be returning. She sighed. "Yes and no."

Well that cleared that right up.

"I don't think it's a good idea to put Lindsey on the stand. Jailhouse witnesses aren't exactly credible, but if we can give her an incentive then her information could lead to the DNA evidence that is credible. That's going to be the key to getting you out of here."

"But we're putting Cat on the stand? What's the difference?"

"Cat is the only one who can attest to what was done in the privacy of her solitary cell."

Was he really going to have to sit quietly and listen to her graphic description - ick. He let his clenched hands fall by his sides.

"That's good. Just put your hands on your knees."

Reid clenched his fists around his knees, right around his old injury. The pain was oddly distracting.

"That's good. The jury can't see you do that." At least he was a fast learner. "Cat's testimony about the victims won't mean anything. The prosecution could assume that her confession is coerced, especially since she was incarcerated at the time."

"So even if Cat gives graphic details about Mexico -"

"It won't mean anything. Lindsey is they key, which means we have to find a way to get a non-coerced confession from her. Hotchner's idea was to offer Jack a deal in exchange for giving us information about what Lindsey wants."

"Did it - ?"

"Yes, they kept him in the interrogation room until Lindsey called his cellphone and of course the whole conversation was recorded. She's worried about Mexico. She doesn't want to be extradited which could be part of the reason why she's dragging out the Ramos charge here. If the team can arrange a deal for her to stay in the States in exchange for detailed confessions on all victims -these two plus the five in Mexico - we may be able to gain her coop - "

Reid was shaking his head vehemently.

"What is it?"

"If we give her everything before trial what's to stop her - ?"

"Spencer, please, I'm not an idiot. Let me finish. Jack wants to be near his girls. So that was his deal. If Alvez is right, this all started officially after you arrested Cat thereby separating her and Lindsey. If we offer to give them back to each other then we take away their motive for future revenge. So as far as I can see, we let them be one happy jailbird family in exchange for your freedom. Seems like a fair trade."

Reid refrained from rolling his eyes - barely. "Except that Lindsey isn't going to trust a deal. She's going to want it all now and then we lose our bargaining chips. Plus they are sisters - not quite sure how that's going to factor in."

"Well if Jack hasn't told Lindsey about her sister in the last 25 years, I doubt he will now. And if we keep Jack and Cat apart until after the trial then you'll be free of them when she does find out."

"So you want to move the entire psycho family in here? Move Jack into the same prison as me?" Reid shook his head. This had the markings of a bad idea all over it.

"No, what we do is move Lindsey and Jack to FCI Hazelton. It's a facility in West Virginia which like Greensburg has men's and women's prisons on one site. That shows good faith on our part."

"Then the rest of the deal: moving Cat to Hazelton and getting Lindsey's deal with Mexico finalized will be the treat after the trial."

"Exactly. Part of the reward now, part later. Of course this all relies on an international deal that isn't finalized and you aren't exactly a hero to the Mexicans. However we don't have the Mexican files, so if it works, then her detailed descriptions would boost the credibility of her confessions both foreign and domestic."

Reid tapped his pencil against the metal table much to Fiona's annoyance as he weighed it all out in his very muddled brain. It was crazy - but it could work. "So we're waiting to hear back from the Mexican police - ?" Would they take it? Would they settle for confessions or would they want their own trial?

"Yes, and while we do. There's something else." Fiona bit her lips, her first display of anxiety. "Another lawyer read about the case and contacted me."

Ried raised an eyebrow in disbelief. What lawyer did he know besides Hotch who would want to help him based on the case file? "He wants to help me? Why would a stranger want to help me?"

"He'll be here in a few days if you want to meet with him - and he's not a stranger. He's your father."


	14. Chapter 14

Another case in Oregon done, another murderer in custody. It should have been a day of celebration and it had - until the poker game had lacked its usual statistics lesson and the jet had fallen silent once again - everyone's eyes inadvertently noting Reid's favorite sleeping spot on the couch. His empty spot.

It was a relief for J.J. to get off of the jet and into the office again, but as she was picking up her jacket and car keys, she noted the light still on in Garcia's office. Not again. She let herself in, saddened, but not surprised to see her dear friend and her son's godmother haphazardly sleeping on her keyboards. The screens, all of them were alight with...Reid. His various mugshots, prison records and indictment files. Poor girl.

"Garcia!"

The tech startled awake, repositioning her glasses. "J.J., you're back."

"Yeah, case closed...Come on, let's get you home. You need to sleep." Much as they all loved Reid, this was not healthy.

"I can't." Garcia remained firmly in her seat, he eyes fixed on her Boy Wonder. "Something about this case just does not make any sense at all."

J.J. rolled her eyes. "Garcia, nothing about this case makes any sense and you're not going to solve it running on fumes. We can have a Reid duty meeting tomorrow. Right now - Hey, isn't Matt Simmons from the IRT? The team that visited Reid in Mexico?"

"Yeah, they're the ones who worked with the Embassy to get Reid's extradition expedited. Why?"

She nodded towards the far right screen. "You've got a message from him...Subject line: Vaughn."

"How did I miss that? I fall asleep and miss all of the action." Her hands flew across the keyboard, her eyes lighting up as she read the memo.

"J.J. are you seeing what I'm seeing?"

"Oh my God! We did it! Call Hotch!"

* * *

 

"Come again?" Spencer Reid was used to sleep deprivation. It had become a way of life, but his hearing hadn't been impaired had it?

Fiona had said she was going home that night and yet here she was, coming in for an after-hours consultation. A second visitation in one day. Her and - well the new 'defense team.' The 'team' who couldn't agree on anything.

"Lindsey confessed," Hotch reiterated, the confusion lacing his voice put a damper on the words. "Prentiss and the IRT managed to pull some international strings and got Lindsey's deal approved in record time. We're still waiting on them to confirm the details of the confessions for the Mexican victims, but the confession for Julia Kelting has been confirmed. She led agents to where she originally buried the body. DNA tests confirmed that her skull and hands were found, C.O.D was a gunshot to the head. Ballistics matched to Jack's gun."

"She admitted to framing me?" Reid's eyes darted around the semi-circle of attorneys. Something wasn't right here. Why wasn't he being handed release papers and why did everyone look so...sober?

"No, she admitted to the killing, but not to an intentional frame. We knew from Cassie's scene that she had surveillance photos of you for months. Turns out, Mexico wasn't her first attempt on Nadie. According to her confession, she was breaking into Nadie's office in Texas when she was caught by Julia Kelting."

"In broad daylight? That doesn't sound like Lindsey. She and Cat think through every outcome that -" That left too much to chance.

"You're right," his father spoke up. "Lindsey was impulsive, emotional. That's why it didn't work. She was caught, and couldn't afford to leave a witness. She put a knife to Julia's back so no one could see, got her into the car."

"She didn't kick or scream or -?"

"No, Lindsey told her it would be okay. If her family paid enough, she'd be left somewhere safe. It was a ransom kidnapping. Of course -"

Of course it had been nothing of the kind. She'd been taken out to a remote road and shot execution style.

"Did she say what she had planned -?"

"No, that wasn't part of the deal."

If she hadn't admitted to the planting of evidence..."So the rape charge?"

"Her confession has been admitted into Discovery, but it's unclear how the Judge will rule on the new evidence."

"What about the other victim? Did she con -?"

A semi-circle of slow head-shaking gave him his answers. It seemed no one wanted to talk about that. "Hotch?" If there was anyone who was straightforward and brutally honest, it was Hotch.

"Like Cat, Lindsey claims to have no knowledge of the last victim."

Reid finally sat down, his head in his hands, wishing for a cup of coffee. He never wanted coffee in prison. Coffee meant sleepless nights, but if he could just turn on one more light in his sluggish brain, it could all make sense, right? This couldn't be that hard. They'd gotten all of the information on Julia, they could get there, it was just -

His defense team joined him in silent commiseration. It was horrible to have all of your heart's desires just beyond your reach. "What else could Lindsey possibly want? Why would she hold onto that information when we're offering her everything she's asked for?" She practically had him hostage, the entire unit on bended knee offering her whatever she wanted in exchange for his release. She couldn't possibly take all of the deal and still leave him here? She wasn't going to get away with it.

"I don't think she is lying." Hotch's soft voice startled Reid out of his musings.

"What?" It was his dad who managed to articulate the one question that was frozen on the tip of Reid's tongue.

"If you watch the tape of Lindsey's confession, she was boasting about the Kelting murder and Nadie Ramos. She admitted that she tried to get to Nadie twice, but didn't name a motive. She's gleeful, eager for the deal. She exhibited no signs of hesitation or deception. She gave up details on seven new victims to avoid the extradition."

"And she's got it."

"Yes," Fiona reluctantly agreed. "She met their demands. One unsolved murder here doesn't change their caseload."

"Don't worry, Son, we'll get to the truth. She's not going back to Cat until you are free. We're holding on to that chip." William put a reassuring hand on his son's shoulder but Spencer shrugged it off immediately. He'd so far managed to be civil to his father. If nothing else, he was grateful for the assistance - but affection? Nope, not ready for that.

"Be careful how you handle that chip. It's worth its weight in gold."

"Indeed." William assured him, hand hovering within inches of his son. Itching, aching to try to offer some kind of comfort, but it wasn't going to happen.

Reid backed away, turning for the door. He simply couldn't handle any more emotional roller coasters for the day. Why had the team even - ? "I've got to go. Guard!" He couldn't take any more surprises, not tonight. "Call me when you've got any more ideas."


	15. Chapter 15

Fiona Duncan had known from the start that Spencer Reid was - unique, but nothing proved it quite so much as the scene playing out before her. It was a scene that thankfully raised more than one eyebrow. She could count her lucky stars that Spencer's father, a fellow defense attorney, had the same dumbfounded look as they stood side-by-side behind the two oblivious ex-FBI agents.

For one, she could say with absolute certainty that none of her other innocent clients had looked at crime scene and morgue photographs with quite the same level of...morbid fascination.

"So, he obviously didn't know what he was doing here. See that? Julia's hands and neck have several small, shallow breaks whereas the second victim's cuts are clean -"

"Reid, get to the point." It seemed that Hotchner was more concerned with Spencer's rambling than his callous tone.

"The point is, I think he dismembered Julia first. Was there any sign of -" He broke off the question, slamming the pen down on the table. Of course there was sexual assault. That was why he was here. For 10 wonderful minutes his mind had been back at the BAU, like any other case.

"But that doesn't make sense." Hotchner contradicted, noting the return of Reid's melancholy mood. "Julia was dead less than six months. Victim 2 is estimated at least dead for two years."

"That's what doesn't make sense?" Fiona snapped, shutting the case file on Spencer who looked like a kid in a candy store. She'd thought Hotchner was exaggerating when he claimed that examining the photos would 'relax him'. He hadn't been kidding.

Spencer looked like a lost puppy, his eyes darting from one lawyer to the next. "What did I do now?"

"Why not try showing some humanity!?"

Reid's mouth dropped open, his wide eyes narrowing in suspicion. "What are you saying?" His voice low, menacing even. "You don't actually think -!?"

"Hey, hey!" Hotch grabbed him before he could reach Fiona. "Calm down.'

"Calm down?" Reid was nearly hysterical.

"Before the guards come!" Hotch's harsh whisper did the trick.

He sat back down. "If you think I did this, then why are you here!?" How could she defend him if she actually thought...?

"I don't think you did this. But I know a jury - " She sighed, trying to figure out how to say this without adding fuel to the fire behind Spencer's eyes. "A jury will see someone cold and calculating. They'll see a murderer reliving his crime."

Thankfully the light dawned in Hotchner's eyes. Prosecutor though he was, Hotchner was slowly learning the tactics of defense. "She's right. We all know that you do this for a living, but getting the jury to see that might be harder than it sounds."

"So what do you want me to do? Cry on cue?" Sarcasm clearly wasn't Reid's strong suit.

"I want you," Fiona explained patiently, as if to a distraught child, "to look at those photos and to be genuinely distraught at the suffering of an innocent woman!"

"You want me to show remorse?" Reid questioned incredulously. "Only guilty people have remorse."

"Not remorse -" Fiona trailed off. "Just sadness, like you're acknowledge that this is a tragedy."

"But it's not a tragedy. It's a crime and I'm going to nail that bitch!" He reopened the file, absolutely refusing to look at any of them. Actually, Hotch noted, his eyes were fixated on the table just above the papers. He was too angry to actually focus on anything.

Fiona opened her mouth to argue, but Hotch held a finger to his mouth, silencing her. "Reid." As the one who knew Reid best, it landed on Hotch to put a hand on his back. A hand, William noticed, that his son didn't shrug off. His posture relaxed slightly, his line of sight shifted to the next page. "Tell me."

"Tell you what?" The exhausted whisper was barely audible.

"Anything."

There were a few moments of silence, in which Fiona actually thought that he would call the meeting to an end. When he did break the silence, she almost missed his soft, shaking voice. "Is that really what people will see? 15 years I've helped make this world a safer place and they're going to think I'm...one of them?"

"Reid -" The sympathy in Hotch's voice seemed to confirm his fears. He put his head in his hands to hide the tears, but Fiona pulled them away.

"That's what the jury needs to see."

"What? They need to see me humiliated?"

"To see that you care!"

Reid looked up at the sound of his father's voice, his eyes narrowing once again. They were going to have to get past it - whatever it was. Hotchner hadn't explained exactly how strained the father-son relationship was, except to say that they'd had a 'falling-out'. The way Spencer looked at his father, Fiona was starting to see that it was more than that.

"Listen, Son -"

"Don't!"

"Spencer," Fiona diverted his attention. "The judge ruled on Lindsey's confession."

Well that got his attention. "And -?" Why hadn't they mentioned this in the last hour?

"The charges for Julia Kelting have been dropped - and the confession is inadmissible."

Wait, what?

William took advantage of the dumbfounded silence. "Given Lindsey's confession and the timeline supplied by security camera footage, they no longer have evidence of foul play against you in her case."

"So how do they explain the semen sample if I wasn't there?"

"They can't. That's why they dropped both charges. Leaving that charge open would weaken their case. So they're going forward at trial with only the charges for the last victim."

"So the charges are being dropped as if they never happened?" The fact that he'd been falsely accused twice meant nothing? Perfect. A dream come true, and its all for nothing. "So how are we going to get Lindsey to talk again? Or," he turned to Hotch, " do you honestly believe she's being truthful? If she didn't kill that woman, then who did?"

William Reid cleared his throat loudly, but his son's harsh gaze was still on his ex-boss. "From what we can tell, Spencer, it may be no one."

"You think I'm on trial for a murder that didn't happen?" Reid laughed, humorless...but no one else joined him. "You're not serious?"

"We think," Hotch began calmly, "that the mole - Matthews - was looking for a dump site and found another body in the process. We think she may have been a hiker who was stranded. Garcia's looking into those reports." It was a long shot in the dark, but better than no shot at all.

"And the mutilation?" Reid was incredulous. "Julia's body was dismembered to hide her identity because her bullet wound could tie to Lindsey. Why mutilate an unknown woman -? I'm telling you, she knows something!"

"To withhold your alibi," William whispered. He hated being the bearer of bad news, but his son already hated him so it somehow made things easier on the boy. "As an agent himself, Matthews would know how close tabs the Bureau keeps on their agents. You spend so much time around security cameras, an alibi would be easy to come by if we knew when she went missing."

"This is insane!" Reid's eyes darted around the room, waiting for someone to agree with him. "How -? We need Lindsey's confession to prove that she -?"

"That she did what?" Hotchner inquired. "That she killed Julia Kelting? That's irrelevant to the court now. This victim has no discernible ties to Lindsey and unless we find one - that won't matter."

"And the fact that they were found within feet of each other? That's what? Coincidence?" His eyes darted frantically from one lawyer to another, hoping someone would inject some common sense into this meeting. "How are we going to show what really happened if the most important evidence isn't allowed?"

"We don't." Fiona answered softly. "The burden of proof is on the prosecution. All we have to do, is poke holes into their theory. The more holes, the more room for doubt. That's how we win this one."

* * *

 

Spencer Reid stood under the ice-cold water of the prison shower. 12 hours later and his brain still had not calmed down. He vigorously scrubbed the shampoo into what was left of his hair. At this rate his fingernails would make his scalp bleed. Damn it!

His own words had been haunting his dreams all night. _Do you know how physically exhausting it would be to stab someone 71 times?_

Six years ago, he had been so worried that his headaches would lead to a schizophrenic break - that it would be him wandering the streets as an insomniac killer instead of Ben Foster. Morgan had assured him he had nothing to worry about - and he had been right. He'd been fortunate enough to dodge that bullet, to escape that fate. He'd soon found in Maeve not only the cure for his headaches, but a woman who had understood him and possibly even loved him. His life had held so much promise then: from extreme fear to hope to despair. Now? Now it was happening all over again. Ben Foster's fate would be his - at least on paper if the prosecutors had anything to say about it.

Fiona wanted to order a psychological evaluation from the prison psych ward physician. Hotch had been less than enthusiastic. The time for the psych report had passed as far as he was concerned. It would have been more beneficial to the defense if it had been obtained in the days after his arrest, but now? It was Hotch's way of saying he was crazy, he was sure of it. Whether schizophrenic or otherwise, he was certainly going crazy. The only thing they had agreed upon was that the decision was his to make. The only thing he knew was that he was in no frame of mind to make any decision whatsoever. Or the prosecutor could request a court ordered evaluation, in which case the ball would be out of their court entirely. 

Maybe he would just go back to his cell and try to sleep after Peterson went to his job at Intake. As nice a cellmate as Peterson was, his snoring could wake the devil. He turned off the tap, the noise of the water pressure replaced with - screaming. It was muffled, but it was definitely screaming. For the first time in his life - his fight or flight response simply froze. He wanted nothing more than to rip that curtain open and - and what? Punch the guy? He had no tactical advantage: no badge, no gun, no proper clothes even. He was dripping wet and as exposed as was possible to be. Could he? Could he stand in his stall and just do - nothing? That might not be a bad idea. Luis might be still alive, working with Malcolm to sneak Frazier's drugs if he hadn't 'helped'.

He stood there, towel around his waist debating until - until his choice was made for him. The screaming stopped.

The deed was done, and as Spencer Reid caught a look at himself in the the bathroom mirror, he realized he no longer recognized the man looking back at him.


	16. Chapter 16

Another child saved. Another child lost. Another day at the BAU.

Jennifer Jareau trudged into to the office Friday morning, nursing her coffee. She'd arrived home late the night before. She'd sobbed in Will's arms and held her babies close for hours as they slept. If it had been her boys... But it wasn't her boys, Will had reminded her again and again. They had spent the night safe in her arms. "We could have saved him." She rubbed at the dark circles under her eyes, smearing her make-up. She'd have to fix it up - again.

"Come again?"

She looked up to see Rossi dragging his feet behind her. He was addressing her, but his eyes were on the 'W' on his wall.

"I was just thinking about Tommy's family."

"It never gets any easier."

"No it doesn't," she agreed. "It just gets worse." She thought she'd been sympathetic enough to grieving parents when she started at the BAU. Then Henry had arrived in her life and...no case had ever been the same since. She knew Rossi understood, finally...what with the unexpected arrival of his daughter and grandson into his life. "Joy sent you a picture of Kai?"

Rossi nodded as tore his gaze away from his office window and went to fill his own cup of coffee. Better than that, Joy had put him on the phone so he could read Kai a bedtime story he'd saved on his e-reader, but that wasn't why J.J. was asking. He held his silence, waiting. J.J. needed to get something off of her chest, and he had a hunch.

Sure enough after a few moments of pacing and pretending to be busy..."We could have saved little Tommy. Spence would have noticed - he -." There hadn't been a need for another crime scene. Spence would have solved it long before Tommy had been taken, she knew it with absolute certainty. He had deduced that Michael Bridge's abductor was a woman after the shoe color reference. He would have saved him - before he even needed saving.

"I know." Rossi agreed. "Believe you me, we're all thinking -"

"-yeah and no one's talking...or doing anything, for that matter."

"Bella," Rossi lowered his voice. It wasn't like anyone was going to overhear, being nearly an hour early into the office, but better safe than sorry. "If you think of this whole thing as a bomb on his chest..."

"Please don't. Been there, done that." Images of Will being outfitted with the bomb at the bank was not a memory she needed right now.

"Sorry, all I meant," Rossi amended, "is that this whole thing can ruin the Kid's life if it's not handled right. Now if I knew which wire to cut to get him free, I'd do it in a heartbeat. No matter what anyone said. But if you cut the wrong wire, make the wrong move -"

"The whole case blows up."

"Exactly. This needs to be handled with caution."

"But that's the problem, Rossi, we're not HANDLING it at all. We're leaving it on the shelf because we're all afraid it'll break. That he'll -" Wait, what analogy was she using again? Never mind. "I mean what have we got, anyway? Are we really going to let CAT of all people-?"

"Cat?" A way too perky voice joined in from behind. Looked like insomnia had sent someone else to the office early. "We're not letting Cat do anything. Cat is - a disgrace to all cats!" Boy was she tired.

"Good morning, Penelope."

"Seriously, cats are warm and cuddly and she -"

"We get it."

"So what's the plan?" She dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "I found prison blueprints."

"How about hacking their cameras and security alarms?" J.J.'s whispered back sarcastically, but the joke was lost on Penelope.

"Not yet, the tricky bastards. I mean, how many firewalls does one facility need?!"

Oh dear, so she had tried. "Okay before we all lose our badges for nothing..."

"For nothing? Reid's not noth -" Rossi steered Penelope towards her lair, nudging her to let them in, which she obliged.

"I know, Penelope, but if we lose our badges on a technicality, then we won't be able to help when we do finally get the answers, which we will!"

"When, Rossi?" J.J. snapped. "When the case is reopened for his parole hearing in 20 years like Don Sanderson? We can't wait that - no, he can't wait that long. Jury selection is what three days away...and if you're telling me that we're going to sit back and let CAT and his DAD save him? He hates his dad, getting him involved is only going to add to his torture. Then Emily -"

"Emily's doing everything she legally can," Rossi interrupted. After setting up the questionably legal interviews with Lindsey and injecting herself into the Mexican investigations, it was a wonder she hadn't opened the doors for another investigation. The last thing they needed was another set of eyes on them, as if trying to work around IA and prison protocol wasn't complicated enough.

"Wait, the plan is to let CAT save him?" Penelope's eyes darted between the two profiles, waiting for one of them to contradict her. But they both pursed their lips and looked -anywhere but at her. Avoidance of eye contact. If there was anything they had taught her, it was that was a always a bad sign. "Why would Cat-?"

"Why would Cat agree to testify in Reid's defense?"

"But that's just it! She didn't 'agree', she volunteered. This was her idea."

"What? why?" That didn't make sense at all. Enticing her to testify with a deal made sense, but her volunteering?

"Well that's the million dollar question. What does she get out of this?"

"You mean other than the joy of yanking Reid's chain?" Literally, J.J. thought with disgust as the thought made Garcia cringe in what would have been a comical expression. "I'll call Simmons, I think he's coming back state-side in a few hours. Maybe a fresh set of eyes will help."

* * *

 

A prison cell was a prison cell all the same, but some had 'priority' such as those with windows.

Spencer Reid wasn't sure what all the fuss was about, as if the inmates needed another reminder that they were unable to partake in the mundane life out on the country road...the country road which was barely discernible among the piling snow. No one was going anywhere, and that included jury members. He knew that Fiona had gotten a promise from the Judge that closing arguments would be postponed until the baby's DNA result was available, but at the moment he'd be grateful for anything that could buy him time...that included blizzards.

"You can't still be in here!"

Spencer Reid tried to keep his face straight as he turned to see his cellmate gawking at him from the door. Picking a fight with your cellie was always a bad idea, - but did he have to be such a pain? "I don't take orders from you!" If he wanted some peace and quiet, what was so bad about that? With the lockdown lifted and the yard off limits, the noise in the day room and cafeteria echoed so bad he could hardly hear himself think.

"Seriously, man, have you thought about talking to your counselor about a job - something to do all day. Maybe take some training classes - anything?"

Reid was about to retort that with three PhDs, he didn't need any more job training, thank-you-very-much, but stopped himself. Peterson was at least trying to be helpful, the least he could do was make an appearance that it was helping. He turned his attention back to his bunk-side cabinet, dialing the combination lock, and reaching for his stack of reading material inside. God bless the brain of Penelope Gracia who had seen fit to take out magazine subscriptions of every variety in his name. Between the magazines and Rossi's novel drafts, he almost had enough reading material to keep him occupied. "It's safer in here." Or perhaps he could finish his most recent letter to his mother.

Peterson shut the door behind him, squinting his eyes as if trying to see into Reid's brain. "Safer? Look, man, I'm not telling you what to do, but if you don't leave the cell after lockdown is lifted, then people are going to start wondering... and talking. You follow me?"

Peterson just shrugged on his way out, leaving Reid alone...a blessing and a curse all in one. He followed all right. Peterson did have a point. As much as he worried that the other inmates may have deduced that he was law enforcement, languishing by himself in his cell voluntarily would only attract attention. No one liked to stay in his cell. He put his papers down. What was the point? It wasn't like the mail was going anywhere fast. Paul was right, best to show his face before people started talking.

Reid locked his private papers back up and headed towards the phones...and their out of order signs. Out of order what the - ?

"Inmate Reid, please report to the module. Inmate Reid - " They were calling for him on the loudspeakers?

Reid raised his hand, flagging down the guards in the crowded day room as he walked towards the security module, or guard bubble as some inmates preferred to joke. "Yes, sir?"

"Dr. Reid, follow me."

Reid eyed the brown jacket with more than a little trepidation, but under the guard's scrutinizing gaze, Reid donned it nonetheless, wondering if now would be a good time to ask questions. For one, why was he being handed a jacket at processing...and what was with the full array of shackles? What had happened to the respect he'd been afforded just minutes earlier?

"Processing out Inmate Dr. Spencer Reid." Why did that sound so strange? There were times when he could have sworn guards forgot that they were people with first names...and titles. The combination left a bad taste in his mouth. Wait, out? "Out where?"

The lady at the counter gave him a strained look of anxiety and amusement. "Good luck, Doctor."

Did he have to be manhandled while in shackles?

The door opened and Reid realized in half a heartbeat that the answer, was undoubtedly yes. The snow fall had eased up considerably and visibility had improved in the recent hours, but the the ground was still cold and slick, and judging by the dark clouds, the storm would resume with a vengeance at any time. So it was vital that they get to - well somewhere fast.

"Where are we going?" Reid held on awkwardly to the door handle despite his tightly cuffed wrists. He really didn't want to go out into the snow. The very idea raised a number of questions and concerns.

"We have a job for you on campus. Let's go." The guard pulled Reid's hands free and suddenly it was just the two of them. "Don't move, Inmate!" He wouldn't dream of it, but his anxiety level spike as the guard released him from the cuffs. Reid stared down at his free hands, the sight causing far more panic than relief. He held his hands out to the guard. "Please." How pathetic was it to be begging for cuffs? But he didn't want to be left out here to freeze on false escape charges. How had Cat managed to bribe - ? But before he his brain could complete that morbid thought, he was relieved to feel hands being wrenched behind his back and the cold comforting metal being applied to his wrists. Thank God. He breathed a sigh of relief as the guard circled Reid's shackle chains around his own belt loop, his hand on the crook of Reid's arm, providing at least mediocre stability on the ice.

No way could this be a false escape plan...especially not with with the guard towers lighting the way down what should have been a paved path. Minimal snow indicated at least an attempt to clear the way. What ever job this was, had to be important. Probably something to do with back-up generators. As long as he made it back in doors alive, he wasn't going to complain.

When they finally made it in doors, an eternity seemed to have passed - but it was only 45 minutes based on wall clock. "Wait here." Like he had a choice? His guard detached their connecting chains and closed the holding cell door on him. Freezing though he was, he never in his life had he been so glad to be among bars and security cameras.

When the guard did return, he was in the company of a woman wearing the oddest combination of winter coat and business suit...like she was on her way out of the office for a ski trip almost.

The woman took in his shivering body with a look of pity and regret. "I'd offer you a cup of coffee, but, we're short on time."

Time? There wasn't enough time for coffee? What kind of deadline -?

"This way, Doctor."

Doctor? Not 'Inmate'? He could get used to this. They stopped outside a set of double doors and the woman - removed his handcuffs? He could really get used to this. The ankle shackles remained, but...yes, he could get used to this.

Unsurprising to him, the woman looked, apprehensive - as if she'd rather be anywhere and doing anything other than uncuffing a male inmate in what was looking more and more like the women's compound. Her eyes shifted between Reid and his guard. Her hard gaze reminded him of Strauss on a bad day. He didn't envy the guard. "He's still your responsibility. If anything happens in there -"

"It won't. He won't. He's a model inmate." The guard assured her. Reid nodded quickly, not knowing who she was or what what he was agreeing to, but he wasn't one to cause trouble. But model inmate? Well he hadn't caused any fights since day one and that hadn't even been violent so if that qualified as model citizen material then so be it.

The woman turned down the corridor, the order to follow was simply understood and the guard practically dragged Reid along in his attempt to keep up. What was such the hurry and how could she walk so fast in heels anyway?

The questions were short lived as Reid's guard opened the door to - the infirmary wing? He hadn't seen a sign, but the beds lined up surrounded by curtains took the guesswork away. They continued all the way past a second door and to - to the sound of loud moans and cries from behind the far curtain. Cries that made the freezing hairs on the back of Reid's neck stand on end.

He slowly pulled the curtain back, praying he was wrong. But his genius brain was spot on as always. "Cat!" Oh hell no!

Catherine Adams looked up at the sound of her name, momentarily distracted from her labored breathing. A strange smile tugged at the corner of her mouth despite the advanced labor pains. "Hello, Spency."

"Um, hello, Cat." Not the most tactful greeting, but that was about all his brain could process as his eyes were glued to Cat's hospital blanket. The outline of her legs, spread and bent at the knee leaving no room for guess work. He took a seat by her bed, all the while wondering why the guards had brought him here. Perhaps Cat had requested his presence at the birth? But that didn't explain why the guards had obliged. They weren't usually the 'obliging' type.' "Are you okay? The baby?"

Cat shook her head, unable to articulate anything further as another contraction began. She whimpered, clutching at the blankets like a lifeline

"Dr. Reid?" Why was the nurse holding up - was that a doctor's gown? - to him?

"Yes," he replied hesitantly. He pried Cat's hand off of the blanket, encircling her sweaty palm in his. Not that she deserved it, but holding her hand was the least he could do, right?

"We're ready for you."

"For me?" His usually sharp brain seemed to have screeched to a halt again. "Wait, you want me to -? " His glazed eyes focused on her bent knees and bulge of her stomach. Were they really suggesting that he be her attending doctor?

"Is that a problem, Doctor?"

"There's been a mistake, I'm not - Surely there must be someone -?"

Four confused faces and shaking heads. "No."

Reid looked up to his guard, who turned to the nurses. Clearly he didn't know much more than Reid did. "Miss Adams checked into Infirmary yesterday afternoon -"

"Yesterday?" Reid shouted indignantly on Cat's behalf. Prisoners they may be, but yesterday? "And no one thought to take her to the hospital? Breathe, breathe," Reid coached as Cat began to moan through her second contraction in five minutes. They really were short on time.

The strange woman, who still hadn't bothered to introduce herself - as if inmates weren't worthy of the courtesy - looked appalled that he had the nerve to question her. "To prevent escape attempts, it is policy to wait until labor is confirmed before taking the woman on the 20 minute drive to the hospital." Yes, she might as well be Strauss's twin. "Preferably the woman is taken in for a scheduled c-section or induction the week of her due date, but of course babies don't like schedules. The road closure was announced soon after Miss Adam's checked-in to Infirmary and we've had the doctor on the phone, until the power lines went down. Back-up generators are all well and good, but if the phone line itself is compromised on the outside then there's nothing -"

"Nothing! Are you telling me there are 1,500 people in your care and there isn't a doctor on the premises?" What were they? Cattle?

"There are nurses to carry out doctor's orders, and we have contracted on-call doctors, but if the roads are closed - So when Miss Adams mentioned that her baby's father was a doctor and an inmate -"

"Did 'Miss Adams' mention that said inmate - who might not even be the father - has a doctorate PhD, not an MD.?"

"She's yours I swear. You -" Cat protested weakly between careful breaths. "Your file said - helped - Johnson - Ow, ow ow."

"That was an emergency!" Reid protested.

"And this isn't?!"

Reid was at a momentary loss for words, gaping like a fish out of water. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. "I'm FBI. I was on a case, there was a victim we found in labor. I helped her, but I had EMS on the line. I -" He couldn't do this? Could he?

"But you have attended to a birth before?"

Reid swallowed. Technically? "Once, but like I said, I had emergency services on the phone!"

"That's still more experience than anyone on prison staff."

"And she's been in labor for nearly 24 hours?" Reid couldn't believe it. 24 hours of labor and she hadn't once been evaluated by a doctor?

"27." The nurse corrected.

27 hours of labor, no epidural...he gave Cat's hand an extra squeeze before letting go. His guard was right, there was work to do.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** This is a birth chapter, so it is rated M for Mature. I have tried to keep this as medically realistic as possible but I AM NOT A DOCTOR. Do not take anything in this chapter to be used in lieu of actual medical advice. **

There were very few times in his life when Spencer Reid felt...unprepared. And today? Well there was no time quite like the present.

But there was also no time to panic. "Okay, I need..." What did he need? First thing to check for - "I need vitals: recent and current, a pulse oximeter, an oxygen mask, Urinalysis strips -" If there was any pre-eclampsia it was over. "Please tell me there's magnesium sulfate on stock." It was the only medicine proven to stop pre-eclampsia from developing into seizures and strokes but he had no idea how much might be needed. Was it injection or I.V.? Damn, this could be a problem.

"Right here. Patient's current bp is 130/90, and last urine test showed trace amounts of protein. No pre-eclampsia." That was...not too bad, but not too good. "I've got a list."

Reid turned quickly to the brunette nurse, who was grinning maniacally, and holding a bottle of magnesium sulfate like a trophy. Either she'd had way too much coffee, or she was delaying bad news. "All vital sign records since admission AND notes from Dr. Chandler's phone calls and the oxygen is behind the next curtain." Or both. Apparently Dr. Chandler's notes included emergency dosing instructions for magnesium sulfate in case of a phone disconnection - and the the circumstances under which it should be given. At least they'd been thorough, even it was too little too late. Good news, good news, he would not have been called for good news.

What else did he need? What other potential disasters needed preparation? At this moment, he would not be surprised if the nurses were raptured and he was left alone to deal with the Devil's mistress herself.

"Dr., are you okay? Is there anything else you need?"

Reid followed the gaze of his new favorite nurse - Tiffany, according to her badge - to his hands, visibly shaking against the metal rail of the bed. "I'm okay." He took off his wet jacket and washed his hands in the scalding water. That felt good...really good. Hands washed and gloves on, he turned his attention back to Cat who was thankfully breathing deeply during her short respite from contractions. He gently pulled back her blankets to expose her belly and placed his hands on it. Right now he felt even more freaked out than when he'd felt Henry kick J.J., but it wasn't playful kicks he was feeling for...in fact, he didn't know what he was looking for. In fact the only reason, he was - His hands stilled by her right hip. That couldn't be - He turned sharply back to the nurses, who were both wearing identical grimaces. So they had been using delaying tactics - "Please tell me, that's not -"

Tiffany and Maria exchanged worried glances, apparently engaging in a silent battle of rock-paper-scissors to determine who exactly would deliver the bad news. After all, they knew nothing about him except his rap sheet and lack of credentials.

"I promise not to kill the messenger."

They both visibly relaxed which left Reid with the one question to which he was afraid he already knew the answer. "The baby's transverse." He didn't even bother asking, if only to spare the girls the agony of the explanation. He was hoping they would jump in to deny it, with a much simpler explanation -and much less dangerous, Dr. Chandler approved analysis -, but silence was all the answer he needed. But really it wasn't the girls' fault. It wasn't their call -

He rounded back to the administrator and his guard. His guard of course was blameless in this mess, which meant - He stormed the four steps over to the administrator as fast as the ankle chains would allow. "Who the Hell do you think you are?" Sometimes a whisper was worse than a yell.

"Excuse me?" She took a step back from him, as if he was an angry bull dog with his teeth bared. "I'm Natalie Fisher and I'm the Deputy Warden of this facility. How dare you talk to me like -"

"No! How dare you! You have a pregnant woman who is full term in your custody, high risk at that and you - wait? She should have had a c-section yesterday! She can't deliver with the baby's head on her hip!" It was impossible. Literally and completely impossible.

"We didn't know." Maria seemed to have found her voice. "Not until after the road closure."

"How could you not know?" Don't kill the messenger. He took a deep breath and un-clenched his fists.

Maria turned to Tiffany, her voice caught in a cycle of stutters.

"We were only checking for signs of labor progression at that time. She wouldn't need to be at the hospital, much less surgery, if she wasn't in labor. Dr. Chandler's been instructing us on how to turn the baby for hours, and she's moved maybe two inches at the most."

"So no one knew she needed a c-section?"

"No." Maria had found her shaking voice. "Dr. Chandler said he'd turned the baby three weeks ago and she was fine at last week's appointment."

Looked like it was going to be a long night. "Get me some coffee, and some dry clothes!"

"There's no time!" The administrator - Miss Fisher - objected. "She needs -"

"What she needs is a c-section, which thanks you, she can't have. So what you need to do now, is to listen to me!" Reid cornered her against the wall, his palms resting inches from her shoulders. He wasn't touching her, as his guard could clearly see, but the silent communication between them was impossible to miss. "I was arrested and charged with murder because my blood and prints were found on the murder knife. I had tried to take it from the attacker and got cut in the process. Translation: I've been jailed for being the good guy and it's not happening again! If something happens to them, I'm not taking another charge for your mistake!" He wasn't sure if Good Samaritan Laws applied to inmates and the risk that they would charge him with negligent homicide if something happened to Cat or her baby was too great. "You get me a signed statement that you are asking for my help despite my lack of credentials and I'll help get you out of the mess you caused -"

"I didn't do -"

"Exactly!" Reid seethed, trying desperately to keep his rising temper in check. He could barely stomach the thought of the baby suffering needlessly due to her lack of judgement. "You didn't do anything, and by that you put her in danger. Her and her innocent baby. So want me to help you? Fine, but I'm freezing and I want some dry clothes now!"

"Dr. Reid, this is a women's facility. We don't exactly stock your size. Or do you honestly think I'm going to give you a guard's uniform?" Did she think he was an idiot?

"I'm assuming you have uniforms for tall women. I don't care if it doesn't fit, as long as it's dry and I don't get hypothermia!" He pulled back from the wall, standing aside. "Go! Now!" She stayed where she was, arms folded, looking put out but properly chastised. Clearly being ordered by an inmate was hurting her ego, but she'd get over it. She'd have to. "Would it help if I said 'please'!?

She hesitated for a second before giving a slight - almost imperceptible nod - and left. "And get me some coffee!"

* * *

 

Reid pulled the curtain aside, re-entering the fray. Somehow having another man dress him in women's clothes had been more humiliating than being arrested but it was thankfully over without the added embarrassment of a strip-search. The shackles were back in place and his chair ready at the foot of Cat's bed.

"What in the -?" Miss Fisher was back, with two steaming mugs, her wide eyes aghast at Reid's new look. "Excuse me, Inmate! Black pants?"

"Relax," Reid's guard spoke up in his defense. "You brought me two uniforms."

"Yes! One inmate and one guard! I didn't give you permission to mix and match!"

"Miss Fisher, I wasn't going to make another man wear women's pants. I gave him the pants from the guard's uniform. He's still got the extra large women's shirts from the inmate stock. So, unless you think a guard is going to be wearing the bright orange of a high visibility inmate uniform, we've got work to do."

Convinced at least, that he wasn't going to be capable of an escape attempt, she reluctantly handed him a letter and a steaming mug of - water. No coffee, no tea bag even.

Reid scowled at the mug, glancing at his guard's full cup of coffee. Don't let her get to you. He took a sip, then put down the mug and opened the envelope. Satisfied that there were no loopholes to be exploited, Reid handed it back to her. "Sign and date, and we've got a deal."

With a click of her fancy pen, she complied, then stuffed the envelope in his shirt pocket. "You look ridiculous in that V-neck." Apparently she couldn't even bring herself to be nice to male inmates - ever - even when one was trying to help her.

Reid ignored her, picking at the new uniform. She was right, of course, the material was sagging at the chest and waist but that was hardly of vital concern at the moment. With his hands washed and a new pair of gloves on, he took his seat at the foot of Cat's bed once again. In his brief absence, the nurses had continued to follow Dr. Chandler's instructions to try and rotate the baby between contractions, except that now Cat had shifted on to her right side.

The nurses took their hands off of her stomach and held her hand as a new contraction began to build. Reid didn't realize he'd been holding his breath until Cat's breathing returned to normal. The contraction had lasted 10 seconds longer than the last one. Pretty soon, they wouldn't even have a respite at all. He pulled back her blankets and gently pushed her left leg to the side, and could tell that their efforts were still in vain. A quick measurement confirmed his fears. Cat was dilated at 7 cm, talk about the 11th hour. "I need a flashlight, and ice packet and a heating pad." This had better work. "Hurry!"

"I hope you know what you're doing," Miss Fisher sneered as she placed the requested items at the foot of the bed.

Reid made a point of ignoring her as he picked up the ice pack. He turned his attention back to Cat who was enjoying another minute of respite from the torturous contractions as she collapsed into the wall of pillows behind her back. He held her left leg, if only to keep her from kicking him. "I need to put an ice pack on your stomach, okay? It'll help with the pain." If that didn't get her cooperation, nothing would. He placed the ice packet against Cat hip, between the baby's head and the mattress. He then picked up the flashlight and shone the light up into her vagina. He could feel Miss Fisher's eyes boring holes into the back his head, well aware of how ridiculous this had to look. "Maria, take the heating pad and hold it right in the middle there, a little lower. Good, just like that. Keep it there, and keep track of the baby's heart rate. Tiffany, you're in charge of Cat's vitals."

"Inmate, what do you think you're doing?" Miss Fisher's shrill voice overshadowing his. "This isn't help, this is -"

"Keep your voice down, you're going to scare the baby."

"Excuse me?"

He put the ice down, turning in his chair to face the livid executive and the dumbfounded guard. "Babies, even unborn ones, are people. They like things that people like: calming voices, lights, warmth...hate the ice cold. Trying to manually turn her against her will is not only adding to Cat's pain, it's simply not working. I'm trying to entice her to move on her own away from the cold -" he gestured to the ice packs - "and towards the light and the warmth. Hence the heating pad and flashlight. That's also, why I'm trying to keep my voice down!"

"This is ridicul-"

"I agree, which is why it's not the first option. Doctors in hospitals have other tools available: c-sections, acupuncture, ultrasound equipment and so on. The baby simply and literally can not possibly be born in her current position. I'm working with what I have and I'm guessing you would not have called me if you had any other choice. So either escort me out, if you like, or let me do the job." Getting no order to move, Reid turned his attention back to Cat who was letting out a long moan which was partially muffled by her pillow. She was also shaking. Reid could only hope it was from the cold. "Maria, move the heating pad to her back. On and off the stomach every two minutes. We don't want burns."

Reid put his hands on Cat's hip - the protrusion of the baby's head - in a gentle caress. "Come on, Baby Girl. Time to come out." He reapplied the ice, once again shining the light on Cat's vagina. "Come to the light, sweetie." How much longer could this go on? She was at seven centimeters. How much longer until she was fully dilated? One hour? Two? "Come on, Baby."

* * *

 

Three hours, three torturous long hours of heat and ice on and off, until finally...Reid felt...something. But it wasn't the baby. It was Cat, her foot against his hand...pushing? "Cat?" A sob was followed by a grunt and a scream. "Cat, don't." She couldn't push, not now.

"She's coming, I -" That contraction had last over a minute, less than 10 seconds in between.

"I need to check." She was fully dilated all right, and there was no sight of the baby's head. The baby had indeed moved, but too little too late. Time had run out.

"I need - push." Cat managed to gasp between panting breaths.

"No! No, you can't!"

Cat looked up from her pillow and if looks could kill. Her panting had turned into heaving.

"Slow down, breathe. Breathe!"

"Don't und- hurts!"

"Oh right," Reid snarled. He wasn't going to take a lecture about pain from a woman who made it her life's legacy to cause as much as possible. "I'm a man, I don't know anything about pain, right?" He put her leg down and put her chin up, forcing her to look him in the eye. "I've been shot in the leg and I kept negotiating with the shooter who had taken a hostage! You know why?" He could have gone on all day with examples, but time was short. "Because there were people, innocent people, counting on me. Right now, your innocent baby is counting on you. So you are going to grit your teeth and take it...for her! Keep breathing, and save your energy because when she's turned - and she's almost there - you are going to need every ounce of your strength."

"Almost?"

"Yes," Reid repeated softly. "You're almost done. You're so close, but you need to save your strength."

"Liar!"

"No, I'm not! Look at my face? Am I bluffing?" He put her hand over the baby's head. "Less than half an inch and she'll be ready." He turned back to the guard and Miss Fisher. "I need her chains off."

"Off? No, no way." Apparently Miss Fisher didn't have any compassion for any inmate at all.

"What do you think she's going to do in this state? Run? I need her on her hands and knees, it'll be easier for her. Cuff her hands to the rails if you must, but I need her legs to have range of motion. Or else the deal is the same as always...you don't follow my instruction, I stop working." He wasn't going down on charges for someone else's inaction and that was final.

As always, it worked. Miss Fisher and the guard carefully maneuvered Cat on to her knees.

"I hate -!" Cat screamed midway to her knees. "-fault!"

Apparently the moving was more painful for her than he anticipated, but he still wasn't going to let her get away with the slander. "My fault? Oh no! Don't give me the 'it takes two' lecture. You did this to yourself!" After she'd ordered his mother to be shot, she was lucky she was getting any help at all. In fact, after he'd tried to choke her, in retaliation, it was a wonder she'd even had the nerve to ask the staff to bring him.

She put her palms on the mattress, spread her arms as if preparing for a sit-up when the guards reattached the wrist chains to the rails. She had just enough energy to spare him a look of revulsion before the pain demanded her full attention again, but now there was something else. She was suddenly very - mobile, rocking on her knees, shifting her hips...apparently trying to find some comfortable position...or at least less painful. She spread her knees even further apart...almost as if she was preparing to - Reid put his hand back on her lower pelvis, right in the middle. Where had they put -? Found it. Ice pack in hand, he reapplied it where the baby's head was resting. "Come on baby, move away from there." Cat let out a deep growl followed by a...strained laugh and then she...PUSHED. The scream that followed, sounded so much like a dying animal, Reid could scarcely believe it was human.

"Stop, stop!" She had to stop. "I have to check!"

"Moved...felt."

"Just hold on a minute. Breathe." It was the last thing she wanted to hear. "Cat, I'm going to put my fingers in -"

"NOOO! OFF! Need - push!"

Reid turned to Miss Fisher. He knew that cue, knew that - especially as a man faced with rape charges - if he touched her. Well, he wasn't going down for Cat's trumped up charge of sexual molestation.

"Inmate, stop!"

"Please," he pleaded with her, his hands raised. "I need to check for the cord."

He was grateful that Miss Fisher wasn't cuffing him right that moment, but she did have the chains in hand. "Go on."

"When the baby is transverse, when the baby's head is not in the birth canal, the cord can fall into that space. If she pushes, the baby's head can pinch the cord if it's there."

"You think if she pushes, the baby could die? How long does this exam take?"

"If all is well? Seconds."

"Do it."

"Thank you. Sorry, Cat." He turned back to...business...his gloved fingers soon met the slimy round surface of what could only be the baby's head. "No cord." Finally some good news. He pulled his hand back. "It's time. You can push at the next contraction." He waved Miss Fisher aside, taking a deep breath of his own as he discarded his slimy gloves just as the nurses had shown him, balling one in his fist and sticking his finger under the wrist of the other. One nice, slimy ball of latex. Yuck.

He wiped his sweaty face with a paper towel before meeting Miss Fisher's questioning gaze. He really hoped his heart rate calmed down soon. The anxiety was making him shaky and he could not pass out...wasn't an option.

"Well, how much longer?"

Apparently 10 seconds was all the break he was going to get before the game of 20 questions began.

That was the question of the night. "I could be wrong." He didn't think he was, just...hoping. "But when I felt the baby's head...I think she's facing up instead of down." He met two sets of questioning eyes.

"So she's still not turned, but you gave her the OK to push? You know what? You're done!"

Reid pulled away from the cuffs. "Just hear me out, okay? One minute."

The cuffs stayed in Miss Fisher's hands, thankfully. "It's possible to turn her some more, but that's time we don't have. She is able to be delivered now, but it's just harder. That's all." As if a natural delivery of 30 hours wasn't hard enough.

"Is it dangerous?"

Reid shrugged. "There is a chance of shoulder dystocia, but it's too soon to tell."

"Shoulder what?"

"It's when the shoulder gets stuck behind the mother's pelvic bone. We won't know if that's the case until after the head is delivered." Half of his brain wanted to just continue and not tell them every possible horrible outcome. His rational side knew that if he didn't disclose, and it did happen, then he just might be on the hook for charges...deal or no deal. "If that were to happen, I'd have to manually turn the baby mid-delivery and dislocate her shoulder." If that happened... he didn't even want to think about it.

"But you don't think - how do you even know this if you're not a doctor? A proper doctor?"

"I um, read some OB books and emergency procedure manuals when one of my colleagues was traveling with us on cases in her third trimester. I didn't want her to be stranded without help in premature labor. So I read the books as a precaution. That didn't happen, but when we came across a vic in labor, well, it came in handy." If Cat hadn't seen his file on the Johnson case, he never would have been called from his cell. If that damned Joel Matthews had never given her the files in the first place...well none of them would be here at all.

"Books? You remember all of this from books you read months ago?"

"10 years ago, actually."

"What are you a genius or something?"

Well now they were getting the idea. "Indeed I am. Certified Genius at your service!"

"Not smart enough apparently," Fisher scoffed. "You still got caught!"

"Weren't you listening? I'm innocent!"

"Aren't you all?"

"Doctor!"

"I'll just get back to my patient, shall I?" He turned his back on who he now voted as the most annoying woman on the planet - and turned to, well the woman who - If Miss Fisher was the most annoying, what did that make Cat? Or Lindsey for that matter? He couldn't wait to be done with the pair of them...all of them, really. "How are we doing?"

The nurses looked up at him, pursed lips. They were still wary of giving him bad news, but the problem became apparent very quickly. Her breathing was too shallow, and her pushing too short-lived. "Hey, hey, Cat. Stop. Stop!"

Cat sobbed at the sound of his words, shaking her head emphatically. "Out! Now!"

"I know you want her out now, but you need to breathe...slowly. Yes," he insisted as Cat shook her head again. "I know it hurts, but you need to take full deep breaths to give her the oxygen she needs." He paused long enough to give Cat the opportunity to comply. "Very good."

He put one hand back on the baby's head, the other on the bottom of Cat's belly and waited for the muscle to tighten. He had a hunch, but had to make sure..."And push!"

He sighed in frustration. Sometimes he hated being right. Her pushes were too short-lived to be effective. He waited for the next one. "Keep pushing, keep - Cat, don't stop!"

"I can't - burn -"

"That's the head coming. The harder you push, the more effective the contraction will be. The faster she'll get here. Come on, PUSH! That's it, keep it coming, keep it coming!"

Push, breathe, scream. One after another, again and again. Reid kept his hand on the baby's head, wishing he could just yank her right out. Judging by her screaming, he and Cat might actually be agreeing on something. Too bad it couldn't be just that easy.

"I can't." Cat shook her head, tears streaming down her red, sweaty cheeks. She stayed on her knees, screaming. She wasn't pushing, but the head? Reid took another look, the head was almost out. "Get her up!" He turned to the guard. "Take her cuffs off."

"What?" Miss Fisher apparently was determined to protest him at every turn.

"What do you think I'm going to do, lady? Help her escape?"

"You are in a relation- "

"I'm the agent who arrested her, I'm not not about to let her out. How would I anyway?"

"You arrested your pregnant girlfriend?"

"She wasn't - Never mind." He didn't have time to argue the semantics of his so-called relationship with Cat, not that she would believe him anyway. "Just do it!" The guard, who apparently had more faith in him than Miss Fisher, was already uncuffing the chains. "Thank you."

"Come on, Cat, up you go!" With the help of the nurses, they got her on her knees. While she gripped the rail with her left hand, Reid grabbed her right hand...if only so she couldn't suffocate him. "Just breathe, take a break. Let gravity do some of the work for you." He wiped her sweaty bangs out of her face as she laid her head on his shoulder, his uniform wet with her warm tears. "It's almost over." He kept his other hand on the baby's head as her breath quickened with each contraction. He really hoped Cat could recover enough strength to push. He was certain that by now a doctor would have cut an episiotomy to ease the way for the head, but he wasn't even sure where exactly to cut or how deep...

"Now push, small pushes!" With some of her strength recovered, Cat complied, panting in shallow breaths and gripping his hand so hard, he was sure the bones would break. He could feel her hand trembling, her whole body shaking. Much as he hated her, he had to admire her for having this much strength after 31 hours of torture. He could only hope it wouldn't get to 32. "Okay, breathe, breathe. That's good. Now take a break for the next two -" As generous as it sounded, that only amounted to three minutes of respite, but that was all that was needed. Again and again and then...

Reid let out a sigh of relief, echoing Cat's surprised gasp. The head was free. But it wasn't over...until, well, until it was over. While she wasn't pushing..."I need to check. Nurses, move her back on her back." He needed to see, just to be sure...absolutely sure. Moving her to lie down was thankfully easier than getting her on her knees. "Careful, careful. Good. Now, I'm just going to put my finger..." Cat hissed in pain. "Sorry." Reid hooked his finger past the baby's head and found...the shoulders. He breathed a sigh of relief. No sign of dystocia...nor on the left side. "She's clear. Okay, Cat, hold your ankles and...push!

Cat's deep breathing was gone. Her whole body was shaking from the effort of the mild pushes but...one more, one more. "Almost. One more." He hooked his fingers around around the tiny shoulders...Then suddenly the room was filled with the blessed sounds of an angry, wailing baby.

Reid could hardly believe his eyes...one very pink, screaming baby girl lay between Cat's legs and a pulsing cord. "Hey there, Baby Girl. You made it!" She'd made it. He wiped the slime off of her face. He knew there was a name for it, but he couldn't remember it, couldn't think of anything...except the tiny miracle in front of him.

The room was filled with 'congratulations' as the nurses handed the baby to her mother. Reid couldn't tell if the congratulations were for Cat or him...or both. He didn't care. His job was done. He could feel the adrenaline depleting. He was shaking...and then the world went black.


	18. Chapter 18

Of all he places in the world that Spencer did not want to be - prison was at the top of the list, in the prison infirmary bed next to Cat's was the top spot. Never in his life did he expect to be here - or to see that.

The thought of Cat being a decent, caring mother was like something out of the 'Twilight Zone'. He was going to blame it on the pregnancy hormones, even psychopaths had hormones.

"You can look, Spency. I know you want to."

The Hell! The last thing he wanted was to see Cat with her top off. He knew she didn't have a choice. Prisons weren't exactly designed around babies - what with the lack of formula and the prison uniforms that could not accommodate breastfeeding. If he'd been capable of reaching the curtain, he'd have pulled it, but having his wrists cuffed to the bed made that impossible. That was another thing, as if it wasn't bad enough to be in prison, with Cat, he had to be cuffed in the infirmary, when he was so dizzy he couldn't imagine walking up right.

"Guard!" The faster he got out of here, away from Cat and - well he was now less inclined to call the child a 'spawn' but he didn't know what else to call her. The name 'Maeve' made him nauseous in a way he couldn't quite explain. He loved Maeve, it was a name that should bring joyous memories as well as grief, but all he felt was revulsion.

"I can give you a private show if you like -"

There was that perverted smile he'd come to expect from her. Apparently motherhood and hormones hadn't softened her completely.

"- like the one you gave Lindsey! She told me all about it!"

"Stop!" He did not want hear.

"So you'd rather the jury hear first?"

He turned his pleading eyes back towards his guard. "When can I get back to my cell?" He missed Peterson, his phone calls...there were apparently things to miss in his new unofficial home. Who would have guessed?

"Not for quite a while. The nurses say you need to ice your head, they're going to be back to give you some OTC meds, and the storm is back." The guard's puzzled eyes darted back and forth between the unlikely couple. "Why would the jury need to know about your sex life with this Lindsey lady? - and why would she tell Inmate Adams?"

"How long was I out for?" He chose to ignore the guard's question. Fiona had warned him against discussing his open case while on the inside. He still couldn't believe he'd fainted. He hadn't fainted at Spencer Johnson's birth, but then again he'd been under less stress and he'd arrived in the last minutes of the delivery.

"Let's see..." Cat began before the guard could answer. "I've fed Maeve three times -"

He finally turned to Cat, glad to see that her shirt was back on, the baby laying on the bed. She was facing him with those wide and curious baby blues. Of course she wasn't. Reid knew that newborn baby eyes couldn't focus properly, not for a few more months and yet... He turned his attention back to her mother. Cat held the baby in the crook of her arm so she could still admire Reid from afar.

"Remember him?" Cat spoke softly, tickling the baby's cheek, raising her tiny hand in a wave. "That's your daddy."

"How can you possibly know that?" He wasn't going to get drawn in...attached. He couldn't let it happen. "You had sex with Wilkins."

Part of him wished the baby wasn't his. Then he could somehow deny that the incident with Lindsey had ever happened. Cat and Wilkins had had sex, he was sure of it. How else could she have blackmailed Wilkins into doing her bidding - assisting with his mother's abduction? And yet - if she was Wilkins' baby, then, well then he was doomed - Much as he hated to admit, all of his hope was currently resting in Cat's arms.

"Does she look like Wilkins' baby?"

Well, no, she was white, but that didn't mean anything. "Well that's...hopeful, but it's not certain."

"You know what is certain, Spency?"

He had given up protesting the nickname. The angrier he got about it, the more she reveled in his anger. "Nothing in my life, right now." Everything hung in the balance and for once he was helpless to tip the scales. The decision would lie with 12 strangers. The more he thought about that, the more sick he felt.

"She is!" Cat nodded to the baby. "I had my period after Wilkins. She's yours." She turned her eyes back to the baby. "You're Daddy's only hope, sweetheart. You're going to save him from himself. He gets in a lot of trouble when he doesn't listen to Mommy."

"Oh so it's my fault?" Reid's eyes met Cat's. "You and your friend rigging a restaurant to explode was my fault? Lindsey stabbing Dr. Ramos and shooting Julia Kelting was my fault? I don't think so. This is on you, Cat! This whole mess is on you! Lindsey may have done it, but you planned it!"

Cat laughed, "I got you good, didn't I?"

Reid's eyes darted around the infirmary. Someone heard that right? Or had Cat deliberately timed her confession for coffee break? Damn it!

"But really, Spency, there was no need for a part two. That's on you."

"On me?" That was some nerve she had.

"You see, Maeve -"

"Don't!" He tried to cover his ears, but the cuffs wouldn't reach that far. "If she's really mine, please don't call her that."

Cat seemed to consider for a minute, stroking the baby's full head of black hair. "Tell you what, you promise to take her when you get out...I'll give her any name you like."

Reid's eyes dilated of their own accord. "You want me to take her?"

Cat's face fell at his words, her breath quickening and for a few seconds Reid thought she might cry..."You liar! You said you wanted her to be yours! You said it, Spency! You didn't believe it, but you wanted it, wanted her!"

"Well maybe I'm not so inclined now that she's gotten me into this mess! Without her, I wouldn't be charged with RAPE!"

The baby started to wail again and Reid cringed.

"It's okay, baby, Daddy didn't mean it. Daddy loves you."

No, he didn't? Did he? Cat rocked the baby, not sparing a glance at Reid until she was quiet again. "The charges are your own fault! What did you think was going to happen? Did you think I was going to let you walk away from me - from us? Like our fathers did? If you want to walk away, fine, I can't stop you. But I would be damned if I didn't make absolutely sure you knew what you were walking away from!"

There was something she was hinting at...something so unbelievable that Reid shook his head, trying to stop his brain. No, it was impossible...and yet. It was Cat. A woman who had rigged a gas line to explode as part of a game. "Are you telling me," Reid's voice was low and his eyes narrowed, "that you had two women killed for a court ordered paternity test?"

"Don't be silly!" Cat scoffed. "She was already dead. He just moved her is all...and I wouldn't have had to do it if you'd just signed the form I mailed to you!"

"So that's why you volunteered to testify!"

"I honestly thought your team would have gotten you out by now, gotten your alibi set up. Some geniuses they are!" Cat's voice faltered. "I was hoping you'd be able to take her home, where she'd be safe. You weren't supposed to be here!"

"Then I wouldn't have been able to save her." The silver lining he'd been looking for. He'd been here to save his daughter - now it was her turn to save him.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Yes, I changed the title*

*Yes, I changed the title*

 

 

**Chapter 19**

 

There would come a day - Reid was sure - when he would never again have to face the wrath of Catherine Rose Adams. Today, however, he was not so fortunate.

Today, his wide eyes were about two inches from Cat's furious face. Not even the combination of ankle cuffs, Hotch and Miss Fisher could keep her in check. "If you ever want to get out of here - then find her!"

"Miss Adams, are you threatening my client?" From the dropped jaw of Natalie Fisher, it looked as though Hotch had stolen the words straight out of her mouth.

Cat pulled back from him, turning her red and teary face into a sneer. "No, it's a promise, Agent Hotchner! Unless you find my baby, I'm not taking the stand!"

"Cat, this is NOT a game!" Hadn't she messed with his life enough?

"Don't you think I know that!?"

"But if you're not playing games, then who - Wait she's gone? You're serious?"

"Do I look like I'm joking, Spencer?"

No, no she did not. He'd seen distraught mothers missing their children too many times not to know that look: haunted and terrified. He had no choice but to believe her, but if it was true? 'What about the swab?" He turned to Miss Fisher. "You got the DNA swab ordered by the court, right?" As long as he had the DNA -

"That's all you care about?" Cat screeched. If looks could kill, he'd be dead. "Our daughter is missing and all you care about is the case!"

Hotch stood, blocking Reid from Cat's view. It was time for damage control - and lots of it. "If you want my old team to assist you, Miss Adams, then you'll need to talk. Next door, perhaps? Miss Fisher, if you will."

As soon as the drama had started, it was over. Reid spared a confused look with his dad and Fiona. A straight forward meeting about jury selection criteria had turned into - well, he wasn't quite sure what to call that.

 

* * *

 

 

Aaron Hotchner had intended to leave the Bureau, and all of it's drama behind. A nice quiet, safe, life with his only son in the middle of nowhere. But apparently the drama was never far behind. But for all the familiarity, he felt oddly marginalized from the hustle of the hospital crime scene.

"Hotch!"

"Rossi, J.J. that was fast!"

"Missouri's only an hour flight away. You remember our newest member, Matt Simmons?"

"Indeed I do." He cordially shook hands with Matt before turning back to business. "Where's Emily?"

"Still working the spree case until Andi Swann's team comes to cover."

"How's Reid holding up?"

"He's not." It felt oddly good to be hiding behind lawyer confidentiality. He wasn't sure Reid would forgive him for divulging the details about his current mental break down. The best he could do for Reid was go gather as much information as possible. Nothing else was going to even remotely calm him.

Taking the hint, Rossi turned the conversation back on point. "So what do we know?"

"Cat gave birth to a baby girl at the prison three days ago. When the roads began to open up and the phone lines were connected, the Deputy Warden of the Women's prison, a Miss Natalie Fisher, called the hospital to inform them of the birth. Hospital security guard came to get the baby, everything checked out. It wasn't until social services showed up this morning that the problems started. The baby was gone."

"Gone? Kidnapped? What are the chances that someone randomly abducts a baby so crucial to a high profile case? Any leads, security footage?"

"The locals are still combing through it all. The baby's chart is here with her prison records. She was checked in, but no one saw her...which means the suspect has a 12 hour head-start."

"So there is a suspect?"

"Well not officially. I tried to call the police chief, but he wouldn't take my call. Said he was too - there he is. Chief Bradley!"

"Mr. Hotchner, I appreciate your concern, but since you are no longer an agent -"

"But we are." Rossi, J.J. and Simmons all flashed their badges.

"More to the point, agents, this is not your case. You have no jurisdiction!"

"Any time there's a non-family abduction, it goes to the FBI. So, yes, we do!"

"The FBI, yes." The Chief agreed, reluctantly. "But I've already called the local office. It's their case, not yours."

Hotch pulled out his tablet and brought up a photo. "We have a suspect."

The police chief was unimpressed to say the least. "That's Matthew Collins, the security guard who picked up the baby last night. We already issued an APB for his car as well as an Amber Alert. We know what we're doing."

"That's where you're wrong. Matthew Collins is his alias. His real name is Joel Matthews, an ex-agent from Michigan who we believe is carrying out a vendetta against one or both of her parents."

"Her parents who are incarcerated in Greensburg Prison, you mean? I think he's already gotten his revenge on them. Now if you'll excuse me."

"You put out an amber?" J.J.'s sharp voice caught everyone's attention as she moved to block the Chief's only route to the door. "If he knows we're on to him, he'll destroy the evidence...the baby. This is not a family abduction. You are putting her life at risk. We know her parents' cases best, if you want the best chance at finding her alive, you need to give us the investigation."

"Agents -"

"This isn't about politics. This is about saving an innocent baby. We already know the history, Chief. All due respect, catching you up to speed will take time she doesn't have."

"Try me."

 

* * *

 

 

Bad coffee and stale donuts lay forgotten around the conference room table which was currently taking the place of an evidence board.

Chief Bradley bit the inside of his cheek as he flipped through the files supplied, his eye on the map. "So you think he'll try to flee the country?"

Half an hour wasted, and Aaron Hotchner was close to losing his saintly patience. "He has to know we'll figure him out, he's going to try to take the baby beyond our reach. You need to pull the amber alert and notify Border Patrol and you need to do it yesterday. If he manages to cross- " The possibility was too horrible to contemplate.

"Consider it done."

The agents didn't move. "Now!"

The Chief reached into his jacket and pulled out his cell phone. "Maxwell, I need you to retract the amber alert. Yes, retract it. No, we haven't found them. We think he may try to cross to Canada, notify the Border Patrol."

"Thank you." Hotch stepped aside, motioning for the team to follow him.

Once in the seclusion of the parking lot, the team gathered into a huddle.

"Well he's not going to hand over the case, so what now? We just go home?" New to the team as he was, it sounded as if even Matt didn't like his own idea.

"Who's talking about going home? Anyone?" Hotch's eye's circled the group. Not one hand was raised. "I didn't think so. Let's go find this son of a bitch!"


	20. Chapter 20

Jennifer Jareau hadn't lost her touch from her liaison days, or at least she didn't think so.

"Agent Jareau, Agent Rossi, how nice to see you." Agent Collins may have been smiling appropriately, but she was blocking the door to the local field office.

J.J. reached out to shake hands, but the gesture was not returned.

"You are not on this case. Your department's help has not been requested." Access denied.

"No disrespect, ma'am, but you need a team trained in child abduction protocol -"

"Which is why Agent Catherine Cole's team has been called, not yours."

Well that was something. The Crimes Against Children Dept had helped the BAU on a number of cases, a number of successful cases.

"She's not here right now, and we are wasting time. Precious time."

"Internal Affairs called, they said you would try to hijack - "

"I'm - not. My only concern is for the safe return of this baby. So if we truly share that goal, then you need to listen. Our analyst has already gone through the crime scene photos and we've got something. So please?"

Agent Collins' face tension eased and she nodded. "This way."

Up on the fifth floor, the evidence board was filled with familiar pictures. "We have Agents Carmichael, Phillips and Stewart," Agent Collins greeted, "Agents Jareau and Rossi from the BAU are here to assist on the case." She turned back to J.J. and Rossi, scowling. It was clear that she did not trust them, but she also wasn't going to lose a child victim on a technicality either. "You are to remain in the company of my agents for the duration of this case, is that clear?"

"Yes, ma'am." Rossi could pull a poker face better than anyone.

J.J. sat down beside him, curling her fisted hands beneath the table. As much as she respected IAs job to safeguard the integrity of the Bureau, they had never quite been so annoying. "As I know you're aware, the Amber Alert car was found an hour ago."

"Right." Agent Stewart didn't look impressed. "Two hours after your team had it pulled. CSI has already gone over everything in that car. There is no sign of a baby at all. No car seat, no hair, no baby drool, nothing. The only DNA and prints are a match to that Joel Matthews (aka. Matthew Collins). You guys said he would try to cross to Canada. There's been no activity at the border, no active travel visas, no credit card activity. So unless you have new information, we have a case to work!""

Not exactly the best way to begin a partnership, but at least he wasn't throwing them out. Not that he had the authority, anyway. "We do! Our analyst has been going over the prison surveillance footage as well as those of the car found on the side of the highway and she found - " J.J. pulled up the photos of her laptop side-by-side, missing the large screen from the Quantico conference room "- that the license plate matched the Amber Alert, but the car found appeared to be smaller than the prison photos suggested so she did some digging and found out the the VIN number matches a 2001 Honda Accord, whereas the license plate belongs to a 2007 Honda Accord."

"He switched plates!" Well at least Agent Philips sounded impressed, even if the other two were still reserved. "That's how he got past the checkpoints. I assume, you notified local PD with the '01 plate number."

"Correct."

"That's not unusual and it wouldn't have worked!" Agent Carmichael protested. "Local PD was anticipating he'd try to change cars, so they've been pulling over every car with a car seat, checkpoint or no checkpoint. The youngest child they've found was six-month old boy with both parents." He went back to chewing on his pen, the glare in his eyes daring them to contradict him.

"So if he hasn't been caught in the checkpoints on the few open roads, then he must have passed them."

"There's an airport that just reopened a few miles from the prison, we sent his photo to them in case he tries to fly out. No replies, yet, but we have an agent briefing airport security."

"Why are you guys so convinced that he'll try to cross the border? This is a newborn baby, clearly it's not about sex trafficking. 9/10, I hate to say it but these guys - they get away. They claim the baby was adopted, fake the paperwork. Chances are this kid will be found unharmed - as an adult. The kid will come to the cops with a laundry list of question and then we'll find her."

"That's where you're wrong, Agent Carmichael. 9/10, most of those unsubs are women who are trying to replace the loss of their own child. This wasn't a crime of opportunity. This newborn baby was targeted as a forensic countermeasure by a man we believe is an accomplice to a homicide -"

"- in which the girl's father is currently charged and you have no evidence, but go on."

J.J. took a deep breath, and Rossi, sensing that she was at her breaking point, took over. "He knows we're onto him. He skipped town, took a new name. He knows that the only way to keep the baby's DNA out of the case is to get rid of her -"

"You mean kill her?"

"No!" J.J. may have hated Matthews perhaps even more than she hated Shaw, but she knew he wasn't an idiot. "He wouldn't."

"J.J." The warning tone in Rossi's voice was clear. He did that whenever he feared her maternal instincts were overruling common sense. "Just because we want to -"

"It's not a matter of wanting!" J.J. protested. "I know he won't. He's smart. He knows what Cat's revenge looks like. She framed Reid in retaliation for a lie about her father. Imagine her revenge on the man who killed her baby! Matthews just needs to get her beyond our reach - which means out of the country."

"Okay, so how? We've already been to his apartment, we've searched the local hotels and motels. It's like he just - " Agent Philips waved his hands in frustration.

"Vanished. Fallen off the grid." J.J. went quiet for second. "What if you missed something at the apartment. Maybe you could take us - ?"

"No!" Carmichael snapped and pulled out a file before J.J. could finish. "You want to look at the photos and reports go ahead, but IA says you're off-limits to the scene!"

"Photos and reports only tell so much, being at the scene- "

"You think you'll magically find evidence we missed?" He scoffed. "You're under our supervision so IA knows you're not contaminating the scene!"

"We wouldn't!"

"Oh really?" he leaned forward. "You want your friend out of prison, so you're what? Accusing another agent?"

"Stop, stop! We all want to find this baby!" Stewart interrupted before Carmichael could continue his rant. "So tell us what you know, and we'll go from there."

"Or better yet," Phillips was pacing, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Why don't I go to the scene, alone? I can skype them in and if they notice anything, I can bag any additional evidence. We're all on the same team, how about we act like it?"

Carmichael, who was clearly the senior, agreed. "Very well. Go, do!"

* * *

 

Half an hour later, Phillips was walking the crime scene at a snail pace that was making J.J. both grateful and frustrated.

"Can we get this on a larger screen?" She turned to Carmichael, hoping a simple request wouldn't trigger an argument.

Thankfully, he said nothing as he complied, switching the video feed from his phone to a larger laptop screen.

"What am I looking for exactly?"

J.J. refrained from rolling her eyes. For all of his positive attitude, Phillips wasn't being much help. "Anything that looks out of place. I'll let you know if I see something."

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. It was Emily. "Hold the screen, I'll be right back." She turned to walk out, but Carmichael followed her.

"Where are you going?"

"Um bathroom."

"Your phone now."

"How dare you!" She thought for a moment of bringing up his indiscretion to Agent Collins, but the woman would probably just follow her. Instead, she noticed Rossi follow him out with his hand outstretched. She handed it to him, then disappeared into the ladies' room, fuming.

Rossi turned the phone off the moment it was in his hand, his eye back on the laptop screen, but Carmichael was having none of it.

"Redial the phone, now."

"That's hardly neces- "

"Or I can call IA and have them trace the call and get that person in for questioning. Or we can waste no time at all."

Rossi sighed, knowing it wasn't an empty threat. Some teamwork this was.

"Speakerphone. Now."

Rossi complied. "Dialing Agent Emily Prentiss."

"Hey, Rossi," Emily's voice filled the small office.

"Hey, Emily. I've got you on speakerphone with Agents Carmichael and Stewart. So how goes the case in Ohio?"

"It's not, at least not for me. We've got the unsub identified, but Agent Swann's team just arrived to take over to track him down. I was actually letting J.J. know that I'm on my way to Texas. Where is she?"

"Bathroom break. Why Texas?" Half of his brain wanted to save this conversation for a more confidential locale, but realistically he knew Emily would not have have called without good reason - and it was probably case related. He could hear the hesitation in her voice as she undoubtedly came to the same conclusion.

"Hotch called. He was interviewing Cat and she said not to bother watching the Canadian border. She thinks he'd try to get to Mexico using some of Lindsey's cartel contacts and since all of Lindsey's kills with her dad's gun were along the Texas border - "

"You're going there."

"Indeed. Oh and Garcia got a hit on the Amber Alert car found in the snow. The VIN number is registered to a Matthew Jones. It's him. He must have gotten his IDs from the same source as Lindsey."

"You've got to be kidding me."

"See for yourself. Joel Matthews, Matthew Collins, Matthew Jones, all the same man. According to his finances, Joel sold his luxury car before he left D.C. Looks like he bought two used cars with the payout, but he did so under different IDs so one couldn't be traced back to him...at least not easily."

"He was going to use the Matthew Collins ID for work and he knew we'd find out. So he needed another ID for his escape and he didn't want to have the the stress of finding another car at the last minute with a baby in toe, so he planned that too."

"Yeah, and getting a job at the hospital contracted to deliver her baby? That's not coincidence, it's a detailed plan that been months in the making."

He shared an exasperated look with Carmichael who picked up his own phone. "Phillips, you can cut the visual feed. Search for any record of Matthew Jones or any ties to Mexico."

"Matthew Jones? How'd you know?"

"How did I know what?"

"The guy's got a whole bunch of unopened mail on the desk. Bank mail mainly."

If the situation hadn't been so dire, Rossi might have laughed at the dumbfounded look on Carmichael's face. "Any account numbers in that mail?"

"I can't read his mail! I need a warrant for his things. I've just got a warrant for Collins!"

"Just do it, Phillips. It's another ID of his, the warrant will cover it."

"Carmichael, do us all a favor and add Garcia to your call. Here's her number. She can look up anything he finds."

"Have you found my Baby Girl Jr? No, wait, of course not, you're in Illinois..."

"Hey, Garcia, you're on speakerphone and Agent Phillips has some account numbers for Matthew Jones that need some digging."

"You want me to dig...I'll dig you all the way to China faster than Timon. Well, not Timon, he hated digging tunnels -"

"Timon?" J.J. was back and more confused than ever. Rossi just shook his head. Usually he understood Penelope's jokes, but this?

"From Timon and Pumba. Lion King 1.5? Timon wanted to leave the family digging business, but his mom made him a sentry and then the hyenas -"

"How about you tell me when we're watching it with Baby Girl Jr, okay?" Trust Garcia to give the baby a team nickname.

"Oh right...and Reid. Can't forget my Boy Wonder."

"No one's forgotten about him." J.J. assured her.

"Okay good, account numbers, account numbers."

Rossi suppressed a laugh at Carmichael's dropped jaw. "I ought to order a drug test on her."

"Call IA if you want, Carmichael, but the joke will be on you. The only drug she's on is caffeine."

"And she tells jokes to handle the stress of the job," J.J. added. "I'm sure you can understand that."

"Oh dear me. That credit card was used online to buy a ticket - oh, looks like Boss Lady was onto something. He bought a ticket last night. Direct flight from Nashville to Dallas, left this morning. Looks like it left at - oh dear, it actually landed two hours ago."

"Tell Emily we're on our way. Unless," Rossi turned to Carmichael, "IA would -"

"Just go! Go! If we find anything else, I know the number."


	21. Chapter 21

David Rossi had never quite understood Emily Prentiss's hatred of stake-outs, until now. Ass-numbing boredom indeed. What did the family of missing kids always say? 'Why are you here instead of out there looking for them?' The easy answer was that if Joel saw them at the crossing he'd know the ruse was up. So until they had a location confirmed, they had to stay out of sight, hunkered down in this tiny breakroom.

"Will you settle down already?"

Nerves were running high all around. The calm before the storm, as it were, but J.J. didn't have to be quite so snappy about his pacing.

"Can't help it, I hate sitting around."

"Oh I hear you," Emily Prentiss joined him at the coffee pot. "But what can we do? We just delivered the profile to the Border Patrol. He appears to be paying cash for his gas because he hasn't used his cards at all, but when he does finally arrive we're ready for him. The Amber Alert hasn't been reissued but every law enforcement officer on the road knows the license plate, make, model, color and year of his rental car."

"Where is he anyway? I know it's an 8 hour drive from Dallas, but he should have been here over an hour ago!"

"Relax, he has to stop to feed the baby, it'll just take a little longer."

"If we're already here, then why does it feel like we're behind the 8-ball? There's something funny going on."

A slender arm wrapped its way around his shoulders, squeezing him tightly. "There was something funny going on," Emily corrected him, "but we solved it. All of Lindsey's crossings, and most likely her cartel contacts, were here at Los Indios. It's where he feels safe and he hasn't a clue that we're on to him. It'll be the easiest rescue in BAU history and Reid will be home before you know it. You'll see."

"You remember the Replicator? Never mind, you were at Interpol then."

"The Replicator?" The newbies, sans Simmons, joined them around the break room table. "No, never. When's Agent Cole's team getting here?"

"Katie should be here any minute, they left from Maryland about the same time as Prentiss left Missouri. It was about 4 years ago, J.J!"

The former liaison was still talking to the Border Patrol, but Rossi waved her over.

"Sorry, I was just telling the BP to make sure to check for the umbilical stump if they think she's been found."

"The what?"

"It's the stump of the umbilical cord. It usually dries up and falls off a newborn baby in the first weeks of life. Cat's baby will still have hers, checking for that will be an easy first step in identifying her. I told them to add that to the memo for other local crossing points just to be safe. Did Garcia call, any more leads? Any, anything?"

"No, we're still waiting. I assume you remember the Replicator case."

J.J. squinted her eyes, her brows furrowed. "You mean when you trapped the agent/unsub in the building he wired to explode?"

Every eye was now flickering between Rossi and J.J. "Say what?"

"John Curtis. He was an agent who was demoted after 9/11, spent years planning his revenge on our newest team member, Alex Blake. He spent months replicating the crimes we solved - hence the nickname. Then he escalated to targeting the team. He sent Reid harassing phone calls, he sent J.J. flowers, left Hotch's photo at a crime scene. He abducted Agent Blake and strapped her to a chair rigged to explode. He even got me to pull a gun on Morgan."

"You pulled a gun on Morgan? Garcia's Chocolate Thunder guy that everyone loves?" The twinge of jealousy was noted in Alvez's voice, but Rossi decided to let it slide. Morgan's replacement was never going to have it easy - no matter how unfair that sounded.

"Curtis made me think that Morgan had poisoned Agent Strauss instead of him."

"So what's that case got to with this one?" It was clear that J.J. wanted to get his head out of those memories, but had the discretion not to mention Strauss' relationship to Rossi.

"Remember when Garcia traced the stolen credit card number to that warehouse? He left his cell phone on and we traced the signal. SWAT cleared the scene and we thought we had him. We had nothing, except a dead body and a room full of our pictures. I still can't listen to Tony Bennet's 'Just in Time' without thinking of that place."

"So what's that got to do with this?"

Rossi took another sip of his coffee, twirling his pen, pushing aside the long forgotten book of crossword puzzles. "We thought we were solving the case, but we were really just following his lead. This feels like the same thing. We thought Matthews would take the nearest exit through Canada. Makes perfect sense if you know you're going to be the number one suspect in a matter of hours. That's what he wanted us to think. He took the southern roads past the storm closures and he was cruising down the highway hundreds of miles away when the roadblocks first went up. He was jerking us around and we were letting him."

"Yes, but we're wiser now." Emily raised a coffee cup in a mock toast. "We've got his plan figured out."

"Do we, Emily? Then tell me, why is he doing this?"

"To withhold the baby's DNA from the court. We've already established that."

"No, J.J." Rossi whispered. "There's more to it. There's got to be. He had multiple IDs, a new job in a new state, he'd gotten AWAY. If all he did was dispose of the bodies, if there's no way to tie - ?" He trailed off, his eyes locked with Emily's.

"You don't think?"

"I think. Sh*t."

"Think what?" Tara never liked the idea of being clueless and she didn't like the deer-in-the-headlights look dawning on the faces of her colleagues.

"Rossi, call Garcia, I'll talk to BP." She was gone in a flash, leaving Rossi to text Garcia and the rest of the team confused.

"What's going on? Rossi?"

Rossi finished his text to Garcia and looked up at the rapt attention of his colleagues around the table. "We assumed that Matthews moved the body to Michigan so that Reid and Shaw would end up together in Milan. Our mistake was assuming that Reid's worst fear was correct. Now maybe it was, but all he'd have to do to get Reid back in the federal system is to dump her in a border state like Louisiana. Instead he takes the body an extra 1,000 miles at what pay off? Why even go along with the plan at all? Cat and Lindsey were both in prison and he still worked a frame-up for them? Why?"

He could see the wheels in their heads turning, the questions they hadn't even bothered to ask. Had they learned nothing from the faulty assumptions about Mexico?

"Simple answer for a simple question: He wasn't doing it for them."

"You think he moved the body of Julia Kelting to be framed with his own victim in Michigan?" Tara didn't look completely convinced. Perhaps because she simply didn't want to believe it. There was a reason agents weren't supposed to work cases with which they had a conflict of interests.

"He couldn't frame Reid for his victim down in Mexico, but now? If he can withhold evidence, he can - or thinks he can - ensure Reid's conviction. Then he can stop looking over his shoulder, worrying and wondering."

"So what you're really saying, is that Cat and Lindsey were being truthful. They really don't have the answers about the last Jane Doe, Joel does because he's the unsub."

Rossi raised his glass. "Exactly. We've been wrongly assuming that he's an innocent and unwilling accomplice."

J.J. had her hands folded in front of her as if praying that she was wrong. "So there is a killer on the run with nothing to lose - and he's trying to dispose of evidence in the case of his murder. That evidence being Reid's daughter."

Prentiss walked back in, the look on her face made the hairs on the back of Rossi's head stand on end. What now? "Emily?"

"We've got a problem."


	22. Chapter 22

Spencer Reid hated prison. Well this was nothing new. Everyone hated prison, except now he was in a prison outside of prison. Reid grabbed the bars of the too-small holding cell at the back of the court house. Some small - or rather large - part of his brain had always assumed that the team would find the answers before trial. Unfortunately, trial was only one day away, maybe two, if selection dragged on. He hadn't even been called yet, it seemed his case would be one of the last of the day.

"Spencer Reid?" A guard carrying a ring of keys approached the cage.

"That's me," Reid assured him, but his words meant nothing.

The guard instead glanced down at the name on his ID badge. "Turn around."

Reid had already done so, the drill memorized long ago.

Only once the shackles were applied was he escorted upstairs.

Walking through public in a bright orange uniform and chains never got easier. Whenever he thought his mind had acclimated to prison, courtroom visits always changed that. If he was particularly unfortunate, like today, there would be a little girl - no more than six years old - backing away from him into a corner and behind her mother. Or like the last pretrial hearing where a prepubescent boy had offered to fight the bad guy with a pretend lightsaber. It didn't help matters that some of the children going to family court had been abused by their fathers and were only too eager to assume the worst about him, as were their mothers.

Reid wanted to crouch down at talk to the child, but knew such behavior would land him back in the holding cell area, and jury selection was too important for him to miss.

The elevator doors opened. "Bye sweetie." He turned back to the child, waving from a safe distance.

"What was that about? Do you know her?" the guard whispered when they were out of sight.

"No, I was just trying to unscare the poor kid."

"You have kids?"

Reid opened his mouth to answer, 'no' automatically as he had done for so many years, but the word caught in his throat. "Yes. A baby girl, a missing baby girl." It was only after Simmons had left him from questioning that the full impact of the abduction hit him like a tonne of bricks. Not only was the case in jeopardy, but Matthews knew it. The baby was his, had to be his and now? That ray of light, that hope was gone in the blink of an eye. What was he going to -?

The guard opened the door and let him in - a room. A small but crowded room behind the judge's chambers. No jury or prosecutors in sight, only friendly faces. Not all of them expected. Reid stood while the guard removed the shackles his eyes glued to... J.J.?

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, creeping up his face. Well this was a welcome surprise.

What was even more welcome and confusing was the hug that followed half a second after the door closed.

Reid held J.J. close, his whole body shaking in the arms of his best friend. He'd seen the look of shock on J.J.s face when he walked in, apparently he'd lost more weight than he'd realized, but he also noticed that she hadn't said anything. There were tears in her eyes and no words of either comfort or reassurance. He tightened his hands behind her back, his nails digging in, refusing to let go when J.J. did.

She laid her head on his shoulder, giving in to his desire - need, even - for comfort and contact. "We found her."

That did it. Reid pulled back in an instant, holding J.J. at arm's length, scrutinizing her. There was no doubt that she was withholding something. Her lack of excitement didn't measure up to such wonderful news. She turned his face towards Hotch. His lawyer and old unit chief was awkwardly holding the baby and making funny faces at her.

"Hotch?" Reid still hadn't completely pulled away from J.J. but his attention was now fixated on the baby.

Hotch looked up, the comical smile slipping off his face almost instantly. That alone confirmed that they were withholding something from him, but apparently they were choosing to let him savor this precious moment. There would be time enough for talk of cases later. "Do you want to hold her?"

"Me?" The thought of holding her hadn't even occurred to him. The guards hadn't even allowed him to hold her after her birth, never mind that he'd saved her life. "Yes." Now that Matthew's behavior all but confirmed that the baby was his - DNA would have to prove it - Reid no longer felt the need to distance himself, to protect himself from false hope.

Hotch gently passed the baby to him, paying extra attention to see that her head was cradled in the crook of his arm. "Time to meet Daddy."

Reid, for his part, couldn't keep the smile off his face. His muscles were so stretched and underused that it almost hurt, but he couldn't stop. "Oh, we've already met, haven't we, Baby Girl? You remember me."

"It's um, Baby Girl Jr., actually, Garcia insists."

Reid laughed, the first real laugh he'd had in almost - he couldn't remember. A year? Longer? "Well then, Baby Girl Jr., you need a real name, hmm? Did Cat name her?" Had she really kept her promise to let him choose something other than Maeve?

"No. I'm going to get that swab for evidence, then I'm taking her to see Cat, but the hospital said the birth certificate was unsigned." She'd felt bad about that decision at first, but she hadn't been able to pass up the chance to see Reid beyond the prison gates.

"Cat doesn't know?" Reid knew that J.J. hated Cat just as much - possibly even more - that he did, but that was still cruel.

"She should. I called her prison counselor, to inform him, but I'm sure she wants to see for herself."

"Cat promised that she would give the baby any name I chose, as long as I promised to take her when I got out. So what's it going to be?"

Reid half expected one of them to object to his keeping the baby, or anything tied to Cat all, but they both chose to withhold any objections, at least for the time being.

"What about Hope?"

Reid looked up at J.J. from the baby who was waving her hands, her face scrunched up as if -

"Here," J.J. handed him a bottle from the diaper bag under the table. "It's been a few hours, she's probably hungry."

"It's a fitting name," Hotch agreed. "She is your only hope of getting out of here."

Reid turned back to the baby, happily sucking on her bottle, running his fingers through her soft black hair. "No. I don't want to be always reminded of why I needed so much hope." He knew she couldn't focus, couldn't see color, but those bright baby blue eyes seemed fixated on him, as if she knew how much comfort she was bringing to him. "Not that I'll ever forget, but I don't need another reminder."

"So what then?"

They passed a number of ideas around the table, but nothing seemed to fit. Nothing that could be shortened to Cat, so the C and K names were crossed off. Lindsey was out of the question. No Diane or Diana either. Reid may have loved the idea of having a daughter named for the mother he loved, but Cat? Cat didn't deserve to name her daughter for a woman that she had tried to kill. It had to be a name fit for all of them, but it still had to be special - like her.

"Maybe something Russian." He'd always loved the Russian language.

"What's Russian for hope?" By the look of pride in his eyes, Hotch knew he had a winner.

"Nadezhda."

J.J. pulled a face. "Reid, you can't be serious. She'll hate you for that."

"By 'she' do you mean Cat or the baby?"

"Both actually. For one, Cat will never agree to a name she can neither say nor spell."

Reid had to agree that J.J. just might be right. Cat would probably think he'd invented it just to antagonize her.

"Cat did say I could pick any name I wanted." Cat wouldn't cheat on this particular 'game' would she?

"Reid, pick something else. Maybe a different translation of hope? What about French?" You didn't need to be a profiler to notice the warning edge in J.J.'s voice. He was pushing his luck and he knew it.

"Maybe Nadyenka, that's a little easier. It's commonly shortened to Nadia." Reid put down the bottle, wiping the drool from the baby's face. She waved her tiny hands towards the bottle, as if to grab it back herself. She was tiny. It was common for babies to lose weight after birth since they no longer had constant nutrients from the umbilical cord. Regardless, he couldn't help but wonder if Matthews had fed her often enough. The thought of her screaming for milk in the back seat of the car, missing her mommy, made his heart ache. She hadn't even finished one week of life and already she'd been exposed to more danger than most people ever would. "Daddy won't let anyone else hurt you, ever again. That, Nadia Rose Reid, is a promise."


	23. Chapter 23

24 hours earlier

Maria Melara turned off the Disney playlist as she took the last right hand turn on the route home, her hands shaking on the steering wheel. There's nothing to worry about, nothing at all. He just wandered off. Sure Michael had wandered off in the store before. She'd had those heart-wrenching moments where he was out of her sight. Though, never before had an episode lasted as long as this one. One moment he was trying to reach the dinosaur toys on the shelf and the next - Well, it was over now. Five minutes of heart-pounding anxiety, only to find him back at the cart right where she'd left him.

She peered into her rearview mirror at her sleeping child. Almost home, almost safe. She pulled into the driveway and let out a sigh of relief as she turned off the ignition and got out of the car. She had barely opened the passenger side of the van when she felt...something on the edge of her scalp. It was cold, and felt almost like -

"Don't scream, don't move! Or I'll kill you both."

Her hands were inches from her sleeping one-year-old son, but the gun? The slightest shift in trajectory and he'd be hit too. She couldn't breathe.

"Turn around." She obliged, grateful that the gun was no longer pointing at her child, but that didn't mean he was safe. Would he ever be safe again?

He turned with her, keeping out of her sight and the gun at her head, the small weapon partially concealed in her long red hair as they walked to the curb where she hadn't even noticed the strange parked car. Why hadn't she noticed it? "Get in. I'll call with instructions. Do everything I say and you'll get your boy back unharmed today. Don't call the police, and don't look back." His voice was gruff and loud enough to wake - wait? There was a baby in the back seat? She turned around on instinct to check the baby, only to hear the click of the gun.

"Drive."

She turned back around, her shaking hands on the wheel and drove.

* * *

 

Trouble, turned out to be a colossal understatement.

Emily had kept silent on the entire drive to McAllen, Texas. It had been a strange decision, but Rossi chalked it up to Emily not wanting to jump to anymore conclusions in this bizarre case.

However, upon meeting Agent Harris, their worst fears and greatest hopes were both realized within seconds of each other.

"She safe?" J.J. could not quite believe the man's words. "How is that trouble?"

Agent Harris texted one of his colleagues before leading the team towards the interrogation rooms. "Baby Girl Adams is safe," Harris confirmed, "But Matthews is still in the wind."

"Then - ?" J.J. was momentarily distracted by the unmistakable sound of a crying newborn baby. "May I?" she asked the secretary holding her, scarcely able to believe her eyes.

"Of course." The woman handed the baby to her, taking caution to support her head. The woman looked at her suspiciously, the very tiny but silent and squirmy baby was nestled in J.J.'s arms. "You must be a natural. She's been screaming the whole time she's been here."

J.J. just smiled. "Something like that," she agreed without taking her eyes off the baby and the very curious blue sleeper she wearing. "Daddy's boy? No, you're not a daddy's boy? Are you, Sweetie?"

"No, she's not," Harris agreed. "We almost let her pass, but your memo said that he might change appearances. We thought that might be the case with her too. Turns out that outfit was a countermeasure. When we took her clothes and diaper off, we were able to confirm that she was a newborn girl. So we brought her here, for safe keeping.

"How did Matthews react to that?"

J.J. noted the grim look that crossed the agent's face. "He didn't." They approached the interview window. "She did. Her name is Maria Melara, and she was a nervous wreck, didn't even know the baby was a girl. Listen."

They stood at the interview room glass, Harris turned on the sound. "She's not yours," the agent's soft voice came through the speaker, barely audible over the woman's hysterical tears. "We have an obligation to return her to her family."

"You have to give her to me," the woman cried. "If he calls and I don't have her -!"

"It's going to be okay. We took the disposable phone he gave you and we took pictures of her and recordings of her crying. If he demands digital proof, we have it."

"He's going to kill him. He said no police, and you still brought me here!" She put her hands on the table, her handcuffs on full display.

Rossi turned back to Harris. "He has a hostage. Who?"

"Her 11 month old son, Michael. Matthews told her over the phone that he was trying to keep custody of his baby and if she got him across the border, that he'd return her son unharmed. Almost like a hostage exchange if you will."

J.J. turned to Agent Harris in stunned disbelief. "That's exactly what this is. Her son is a hostage and you arrested her? Why?"

"Initially we thought she might be an accomplice, but it's clear now that's not the case. She'll be released soon."

"I've got something." The group turned to see another agent approaching. "It's him." The new arrival handed off the tablet to Harris. "The same clothes the mom said her son was wearing."

"That can't be right, can it?" Alvez scrutinized the photo. All previous security camera footage had shown Matthews with dark brown hair that covered the back of his neck, and glasses. This man - "Are you sure it's him?"

"Facial recognition was a match. Looks like he cut his hair and ditched the glasses."

"Son of a -" Tara being one step away from swearing was never a good sign. "So he got through? Matthews made it to Mexico?"

The team held their breath, letting out simultaneous groans as the agent confirmed their worst fears. "Matthew Jones is a common name and he was with an older baby boy, not a newborn girl. No red flags showed until we went back looking for the boy on the cameras."

"May I?" J.J. gestured for the door.

"Of course." Harris opened the door and waved his agent to step outside as J.J. handed the baby to Alvez.

The door was closed, the room eerily quiet. "Mrs. Melara, I'm Agent Jennifer Jareau."

"Did you find him, did you find my baby?"

"No," J.J. whispered. "Not yet, I just need you to answer some questions for me."

"I've answered everyone's questions and no one can tell me -"

"We don't know where he is, right now, but we believe he's safe. Is that them?" She turned her tablet around for the mother to see.

Maria's tears stopped, her eyes wide. "Yes. That's my boy. He's alive. Where is he?" Maria's eyes darted to the door as if she expected to see Michael come in any minute.

"Maria," J.J. slowly coaxed her into conversation. "He's not here. Matthews crossed into Mexico with him, the authorities -"

"Oh God! No!" She shook her head emphatically. "He said no cops. If he sees -"

"My team is contacting the Mexican authorities now. They know to proceed with the utmost caution. We will find him. What I need from you, right now, is to know when you first saw this man. Was there anyone else with him when he took Michael?"

"No," Maria's eyes were still on the photo, as if she was afraid to look away. "No, he was alone - I've never seen him before. Please, you need to let me take the baby. He's expecting me. He said he'd return Michael unharmed if I brought the baby to him in Mexico."

"Excuse me." J.J. left the interrogation room to face the semi-circle of team members. "Maybe we could -?"

"No." The word was out of Emily's mouth the second they laid eyes on her. "We're not letting her take the baby. I want you to get her out of here, back to Illinois."

"Of course, but I've got an idea. Here me out for a second."

* * *

 

Rossi never liked working with victims in the field. It was like trying to dismantle a bomb with no manual and no bomb squad. Well, that wasn't the best analogy, they did after all have the phone instructions from Mrs. Melara.

The phone instructions which had led them to the same motel where Reid had first been framed. Apparently Matthews had made several crossings under his Collins ID.

Rossi peered out the window of the motel room he had hoped to never see again.

"Any sign of them?" Emily asked from over his shoulder.

"No." Mrs. Melara was supposed to arrive any minute in her cab driven by Officer Morales from the Matamoros police department who had been less than pleased to see their faces.

"Why here?" Tara inquired from the chair next to his. "I mean, isn't it obvious?"

"Nope." Alvez was peering through the widow by by door. "He thinks he outsmarted us. If this is where he did deals with Lindsey, it would be his comfort zone."

"Quiet. There she is."

Maria Melara was walking towards them, or rather the neighboring hotel room, caring a baby's car seat. She put the car seat down, reaching for her phone, her voice filling up their room. "I'm here, Mr. Jones. I did everything you asked."

Maria stood outside the door, resisting the urge to scratch the kevlar vest under her clothes. "Please, bring me my boy. I need to see him."

"No, come inside, I'll open the door. Room 15."

Her breath hitched in her throat, the team had warned against isolating herself with him.

"What's the matter, Maria?" The words may have been kind, but the harsh voice was laced with suspicion.

"Nothing," she assured him perhaps a little too quickly. "It's just, well I'm hungry. Maybe we could meet inside the diner. He's here, you can hear him."

The sound of the baby crying seemed to allay his fears. "I'll see you there."

She breathed a sigh of relief as she picked up the car seat, watching Officer Morales head towards the diner. She followed him, placing the car seat at the nearest booth, away from the window as previously instructed. Now all she had to do was wait.

She pretended to look at the menu as she kept her eye on the door. After a few agonizing minutes, the man from the photograph walked in, his hand on his holstered weapon - her child resting peacefully in his arms.

She all but ran up to him, barely restraining herself from pulling her boy out of his arms. "Give him to me." She held her arms outstretched.

"You first." He nodded towards the car seat. "Place the baby on the table so I can see him."

"My boy, please!"

"If you're trying to play me -".

"I'm not playing. Please. Your baby is right there." If he didn't hand over Michael, if he found out. Her eyes darted between Michael and the car seat.

* * *

 

"Oh dear," Rossi whispered as the team Matthews stride over to the car seat, clearly angry. "Go, go, go!"

The team and the Mexican authorities entered the diner from both doors, guns drawn. "FBI! Drop the weapon!"

"Put the boy down, Matthews!" Emily warned as the Mexican authorities tried to pull Maria out of harm's way.

"You liar!" Matthews yelled, the baby blanket in his hand to reveal the baby doll and a tape recorder playing the sounds of a baby's cries.

"They stopped me at the border, I swear I didn't call them," Maria cried, trying to fight off the officers. "Michael!"

The commotion had woken the boy up, his cries joining the now deafening noise as the hotel workers and guests scrambled for the exits.

Matthews pulled his gun in an instant, the barrel against boy's neck. "Back up! Or I shoot!"

The agents obliged, taking a couple of precautionary steps back, their guns still drawn.

Tara alone lowered her gun. "Joel, put the gun down. You don't want to hurt him."

"You want to bet his life on that?"

Tara didn't even flinch at the sound of the gun clicking. "You had the means and motive to kill Spencer's daughter, but you didn't - and you won't hurt Michael, either."

"We can't leave, Matthews." Emily backup into the corner nearest to him. "You know the drill. I must say, though, I'm impressed. Two abductions in one day. That really is one for the record books."

"You think that was impressive?" Matthews scoffed. "You don't know anything about me, what I've done."

"Agent David Rossi here, I'll make a deal. You release the boy to his mother right now, and I'll help you write the book on this case myself."

"You would do that for me?"

"It would be my pleasure. We could learn a lot from you. I'll even introduce you to my publishers, you'll be one very rich man."

"Rich and in prison. I know what happens to Feds in prison." Between watching how Shaw and later Reid had suffered over the years, they didn't doubt it.

"Your buddy Shaw practically runs Millburn. And you?" Alvez whistled. "I'm sure the inmates would love to hear how you fooled multiple FBI departments. You'll be a celebrity in there. No one would mess with you."

Matthews took a cursory look around him, but there was no way out. He was surrounded by both American and Mexican agents alike.

Emily had a bad feeling in her gut. "There's no way out, Matthews. The only bargaining chip you have is the safe return of that boy."

"No." Matthews' voice was barely audible. He was shaking his head, a man in denial. He moved his hand slightly, his gun momentarily aimed at the ground.

On any other day, she would have shot him without hesitation. The moment was passed, the opportunity lost in a split second.

Matthews laughed, his face lit up in a twisted smile. "You can't do it." He raised his gun.

"NOOOO!"

The same word echoed around the diner in varying degrees of tone and terror as the sound of a barrage of gunshots reverberated of the walls. The Mexican police had taken the shot that she couldn't.

The room was silent, save for the cries of a small boy swept up in his mother's arms. Safe at last

For once, the team couldn't savor the victory of rescue. As everyone slowly left the room, the eyes of the team were fixated on the bloodied body with no less than four shots to the head.

Joel Matthews had taken his secrets to the grave.

 


	24. Chapter 24

Spencer Reid had always been a very private person. He preferred to have emotional breakdowns in private, thank you very much. Practically anywhere other than under the scrutinizing gaze of lawyers. It didn't even matter at the moment that they were on his side, he wanted nothing more than to leave the private visitation room, to retreat to the semi privacy of his cell, but he knew that couldn't happen. Not now. Not now that….

He tried to keep his face impassive, under Hotch's watchful eye, but Hotch knew all of his micro-expressions and his mask was slipping.

"He's dead?" His voice broke against his will, his eyes burning. In another lifetime, he would have reached out to the group at NA meetings. Some might have even assumed that Johnny - Joel had overdosed. He could have handled that, but not this. Anything but this. The idea that Joel would kill himself rather than allow Reid to walk free was incomprehensible.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, another under his chin. Both hands too smooth to belong to Hotch, and too large for Fiona. He opened his narrowed eyes, meeting his father's. Almost on instinct, he pulled away with perhaps more force than was necessary.

"Don't!" He held up a finger in warning, unconsciously backing up next to Hotch. Whether it was because that was the furthest point from his dad, or that he felt safe with Hotch, he couldn't quite tell at the moment.

"Spencer!" Fiona's voice echoed his dad, except she looked more angry than either of the men. "This has to stop. Now! I don't know what happened between you -"

"So stay out of it!" he snarled, regretting the outburst as soon as the words were out of his mouth.

"If you bring it to the courtroom, you make it my business." Fiona smirked. "If you go into trial with this kind of attitude, the jury will deduce that your father is doing everything that he can to help his criminal son -"

"I'M NOT -" He took two quick steps towards Fiona before Hotch could reign him in.

"I KNOW THAT!"

Her sharp words stopped him in his tracks, his balled fists hanging limply by his side.

Fiona lowered her voice, grateful that the anger had left his eyes. "But the jury doesn't. You need to make the right first impression: calm, collected, confident. Right now, they would see you as being ungrateful for his help, they won't like that. Trial starts tomorrow, so either put this behind you, today! Or dismiss him from the case. Hotchner -" Fiona looked up from the Reid men. "Let's go get dinner."

She stood by the door, her hand on the handle. Hotch, on the other hand, kept his eyes darting between the two Reids. Clearly he was considering staying as referee, but just as quickly realized they would both be holding back with an audience. "We'll be back in three hours for your decision." He picked up his briefcase and followed Fiona.

The door was pulled shut with a loud bang and a click of keys and metal, then...silence.

There was one very tense minute of the men staring each other down, sizing up the other...waiting. Neither wanted to start a conversation over two decades in the making. Other than Spencer's apology for being wrong about the Riley Jenkins accusation, they hadn't spoken to each other since William left.

"You're a coward." His mother's words that had haunted him his entire life. Most sons looked up to their fathers, wanted to emulate them, looked to them for an example. In Spencer's case, they only thing he had learned from his father was what not to do.

"You're a mommy's boy, always have been." The words should have a bit of a sting to them, but instead there was...nostalgia?

"You having a midlife crisis, or something? You think you can fix the last 20 years just by showing up now?"

"You need help, that's why I'm here."

Spencer stared at his father, dumbfounded...his anger mounting at the words, unable to believe he heard them. "You're coming back, because I need help?"

"Yes." That simple statement, meant to put out the flames...merely poured gasoline, gallons of it.

In two short strides, Spencer had crossed the room, his hands on William's shoulders, pinning him to the wall. He dug his longish fingernails into his dad's shoulder. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to choke him...Don't do it, don't do it! He tightened his hands around the thin fabric of the dress shirt, fighting more with himself than his father. Where had his self-control gone? He had a feeling he'd lost it with his freedom.

"Where the hell were you when I needed help at 10 years old? I needed you more then, than I do now!"

"Spencer, I'm -"

"Don't! You don't get to say you're sorry, like you didn't have a choice! You know who didn't have a choice? Morgan's dad! He was shot on the job, but you - you had a choice, and you chose to leave me!" He wanted to hate his father, like he said he always had, but he didn't. He loved him, he knew that in a heartbeat. If he hadn't loved his father, then he could just work like colleagues without a care. The pain however ran as deep as the love that had been torn away from his life.

"I couldn't take care of you any more. I tried, Spencer, I -"

"You thought your son could do the job that you couldn't?"

William was still pinned to the wall, opened his mouth to speak, but Spencer wouldn't have it.

"You could have put a return address on the letter you sent me, given me your phone number." He heaved, desperate to reign in his emotions. "I needed you! I was bullied every week, sometimes daily in school. Mom couldn't take care of herself, let alone me."

"Spencer, I -"

Spencer emotions swung from pain to anger to hate in the span of seconds, but even William knew to shut his mouth at THAT look. "I know why you couldn't take care of Mom. You made a promise to her, a vow: in sickness and in health. It was too painful for you to watch her decline. I get that now." The tears were rolling down his cheeks. It was instinct to want to wipe them away, but he didn't. He wanted his father to see the pain he'd caused, and he also wanted to maintain what little control he had. "Mom and schizophrenia go hand-in-hand in my mind. I love her as she is because I've never known anything else. But you - you watched her decline into schizophrenia the way I've watched her decline to dementia. But that's not an excuse." His anger was back 10-fold, he had momentarily relaxed his grip on his father's shoulders, only to tighten them again. "You had so many other choices! You could have taken her to Bennington 10-years before I ever could. We could have visited her together, we could have kept the family together. But no! You had dispose of us like we were garbage! You never even called! Not once! And for that, I will never forgive you!"

William moved his arms, just enough to grab his son's arms at the elbow, slowly lowering them down. "I'm sorry. I know that's not enough, it never will be. The only thing I can do, is to make amends. To help you in any way I can. When I heard about the case on the news -"

"You heard about it on the news - in Vegas?" Exactly how much negative publicity did he have?

"It's everywhere. So I called your Aunt Ethel to ask why she didn't tell me. She hadn't heard. You didn't call anyone, did you?"

"The team can handle it, I don't need any more humiliation."

"I disagree. You need help, you need support."

"You added her to my visitation list." It was a statement, not a question. He had no doubt that his father hadn't taken his feelings or desires into consideration. Clearly nothing had changed, no matter what his dad said.

"She got time off to attend the trial and she'll be visiting you. If you'll see her, that is. She also called Cousin Dave."

"I don't to see them in here - or in court."

"Spencer, it will look bad if you don't have anyone on your side of the courtroom."

Great, he could somehow handle the idea of strangers hearing the worst possible lies about him. Not like he'd ever seen them before and his name would disappear from the headlines, but the humiliation of friends and family hearing the prosecutions presumptions was almost more than he could handle.

"I care about you, Spencer. I'm trying to do right by you. I know that's strange for you to hear -"

"You don't care! You care about me as much as Cat cares about Nadia! As long as the kid is well cared for by someone else, you can still sleep at night. Except that I wasn't safe." He crossed his arms, scrutinizing his dad who heaved a sigh of relief at being released for his son's painful grip. "I had no one looking out for me, except Auntie Ethel. She had her hands full after Uncle Daniel died. She had her own small child, but she still found time to come check up on me. She would have called CPS except that I begged her not to because I didn't want to lose Mom too. I didn't want to be alone." That was the crux of the matter when he thought about, after his dad left...he had essentially been alone ever since. "I don't want to be alone."

Reid rubbed at his beard, wet from tears - how long had it been since he'd shaved? The fact that he couldn't remember was a bad sign.

"You're not alone." William reached out. For once Spencer didn't shut him out as he pulled him into a hug - for the first time in 26 years.

Spencer didn't have the energy to fight any more - half of his brain had missed his father's affection, longed for it. It was like a dream come true and a nightmare all wrapped into one. He put his arms around his dad's shoulder, half expecting to wake up at any second.

William kept his arms around his son. Spencer would have to pull away on his own, because he was not leaving while his son needed him. Not even the damned guards could pull him away at a time like this. "You're not alone in this, I promise."


	25. Chapter 25

"I just don't get it," J.J. sighed as she rocked baby Nadia in her exhausted arms.

"Why she's still crying? Or this case?" Matt Simmons asked as he shut the door of J.J.'s hotel room behind him. "Here, let me. Hi, princess. What's the matter, sweetie?"

J.J. gladly handed her over. There were days when she missed having babies in the house. Then there were days when she was glad her boys could talk. "Thank you. She didn't wake up the entire hotel, did she?"

"Well, I don't know about that? What do you think, Nadia? You think you can set the record?" The screaming continued unabated. Matt made a fake pouting face as he studied the baby in his arms. Little Nadia Reid was wearing a thick white and pink sleeper. Her ears were properly covered with a pink beanie so that only a few strands of long black hair poked out on all sides, but that face...red and tear-stained made his heart ache. "Poor little baby, you've had a rough day, haven't you? Taken from Mommy AND the hospital?"

"Did the team find anything else out? Did Matthews say anything before he -?"

"Killed himself? No." That was the one regret that had silenced everyone on the jet on the way back. If only they'd been able to trick him into a confession. But no one had dared to bring up Reid's name with an innocent child at gunpoint.

"He didn't kill himself," J.J. corrected.

"Suicide by cop, same thing in the end, right?"

"Not sure if the judge is going to see it that way." She knew Hotch was going to make a last ditch effort to convince the Judge that Matthews' actions implicated his own guilt, but without a clear-cut suicide, it was a stretch. "How did it come to this?" She stroked the tears from the baby's face. How could they be without answers the day before Reid's trial?

"I don't know," Matt whispered as he lifted Nadia to his shoulder, rubbing soothing circles on her back this his fingers. It seemed to work. She was crying, but no longer screaming. Or maybe she was just exhausted.

"How's Emily holding up? She sounded pretty upset on the phone."

"She feels like she failed Reid and the little boy."

"But he's safe, right?"

"He is, but she couldn't bring herself to take the shot."

"She couldn't kill Reid's only hope." J.J. turned her attention back to the baby. "Maybe not his only hope. We've still got you, little princess." Not wanting to think about what would have happened to the boy, if the Mexican police hadn't been there, J.J. turned her attention back to the files on the table. "Some one's got to be missing her."

"Garcia went through every missing person case? You're sure about that?"

"Matt, don't." Anyone who said that Garcia wasn't doing enough, would have to answer to her. "Garcia's been over every file a dozen times. All family DNA tests have been negative. If Garcia can't find the file then -"

"It doesn't exist." Rather than a tone of resignation, Matt's eyes lit up. "It doesn't exist!"

J.J.'s eyebrows rose to her hairline. What was he so excited about? "Exactly. No, how can someone not be missed for more than 2 years?"

"Think about it." Matt placed the baby in her stroller and hurried toward's J.J.s laptop on the table. "You can't report an adult missing unless there's evidence of foul play. She was never reported, that's why we can't find it."

J.J. peered over his shoulder as he signed into the FBI website on her laptop and pulled open Joel's file.

"Now that we know it was Joel who killed her, we need to look at the women in HIS life, rather than looking for connections to Lindsey and Cat in the Missings files."

"So we what? Profile backwards, from the unsub to the victim?"

Two hours later, the baby was soothed thanks to Garcia's idea to turn on the recording of Cat and Reid's restaurant meeting. Apparently Mommy's voice could work wonders. That didn't mean that Rossi was going to put her down any time soon. He seemed as captivated by her, as she was by his beard.

"Don't worry, sweetie. We'll get your daddy back for you in no time. Uncle Rossi is a genius at reverse profiling."

"Don't flatter yourself, Rossi," Emily warned from the neighboring chair of the cramped hotel room. "Sure, you and Garcia tricked Rothchild into a confession but we never actually tied any of those seven women to him."

"He's still in prison, isn't he? Shame he made a deal to avoid the death penalty. I was kind of looking forward to that."

Alvez looked up from his notebook, his eyes narrowed. "Remind me not piss you off."

"Why don't I remember that case?" J.J. wondered aloud. She was sure she'd remember a case this unique.

"You were on maternity leave. Garcia, anything?"

The tech shook her head. "He doesn't post much to social media. The women in his family are all accounted via bank activity."

"We're over thinking," Tara took another sip of coffee, fighting to keep her eyes open. "This can't be too hard. Matthews obliterated her ID because she could be traced to him."

"Hang on, hang on." Alvez smiled, but it was grim and short lived. "We originally looked at Shaw's notes for incriminating evidence, but here - he says that Matthews left Michigan after his girlfriend dumped him 'a few years ago'."

"What's her name?"

"That's thing, there is no name. No, name, no date"

"Simmons, when you were questioning Reid. Did he -?"

"Yes. He said the same thing. Matthews mentioned at their therapy group that he was devastated that his girlfriend cheated - when they were engaged."

An uncomfortable silence fell around the room, no one wanting to clarify the terms of the 'therapy group'. Tara broke the awkward silence. "Did he give you a name?"

"He said Matthews never used it."

"Searching, searching." Garcia typed as fast as she could. "I got it! He was engaged. He applied for a marriage license - nothing."

"Nothing? Not a single thing?" Emily peered over Garcia's shoulder, not willing to believe it. "We found her?"

"The marriage license was never finalized. She's off the grid, entirely. No credit cards, W2. Phone- her phone number is on Joel's call history but was reassigned by the phone company. Last activity was June 21, 2015. It's a match. If I was a betting woman, I'd say your Jane Doe is Stephanie Higgins."

"Time to wake up Hotch. Who wants to do the honors?"


	26. Chapter 26

Aaron Hotchner was not accustomed to feeling out of place, least of all in the chambers of the honorable judge presiding over the case. Normally, he'd be commiserating with the judge on the latest stalling tactics of the defense. Thankfully, Fiona was in her element.

"Your Honor, the report from the Mexican authorities and the expedited maternal DNA test of Baby Girl Adams -" Hotch didn't want to imagine how many strings Garcia had pulled to get that rushed - "shows that Joel Matthews took the baby from Greensburg Prison to Mexico and that his fiance has been missing since the time frame indicated by Jane Doe's autopsy report. This attempt to withhold court-ordered evidence strongly suggests that Joel Matthews - not our client - is the actual killer. Furthermore, my client has an alibi of being in Texas, not Michigan, at the time that Stephanie Higgins went missing."

"Is there a question, for me, Counselor?" The judge barely glanced at the security camera footage of Reid in the Texas police station.

"Given this evidence -"

"What evidence?" the judge cut her off. "You want me to what? Postpone the trial? Drop the charges!? On what basis? As far as I can conjecture - and that is all that I have heard here - is perhaps Matthews ran because he feared Reid would sell him out."

"For what, exactly? A deal?" Hotch cut in. "Our client has refused on all deals, because he is innocent! The only realistic reason for Matthews to attempt to obstruct justice is because he was trying to save himself."

"Didn't do a very good job did he?" The lawyers had nothing to say to that, the silence was music to the judge's ear. "As for these photographs, we don't know when she went missing, therefore this 'alibi' is irrelevant." The file remained unopened, the Judge's hands folded neatly on top. "Counselors. I am aware, that the FBI spoke previously on behalf of this defendant and that judge allowed for his immediate release from prison. After his release, he supposedly killed two more -"

"Two murder charges have been dropped and all three alleged victims were killed prior to his incarceration, Your Honor." Hotch stood with his hands behind his back, his glare fixated on the judge - if for no other reason that to avoid the glare Fiona was directing to him.

"Mr. Hotchner! Surely as a former prosecutor, you will understand that I can not in good conscious allow a man so accused to walk out a whim!" The judge reached for her own stack of rubber-banded papers. "These are the NEGATIVE results of the maternal DNA tests requested by the FBI for this case. 26 tests, from 26 missing person reports. Now you want me to postpone this highly publicized trial and authorize the DNA test of a woman who doesn't even have a missing report?" She shook her head, lips pursed. "No. Save your conjecture for the jury in..." she made a show out of checking her very expensive watch... "27 minutes."

* * *

 

"Dad, Dad, stop!"

Hotch wasn't the least bit surprised, and even partly gratified, to find father and son arguing in the small and sparsely furnished office adjacent the Judge's Chambers. At least they were both still standing.

"Why on earth are you -? Oh hello Hotch." Reid turned his head as two of his lawyers entered the room, looking less than pleased.

"Spencer! Hold still!" William Reid seemed determined to have something that at least resembled male-bonding with his only son. Or at least calm his nerves down. He hadn't been able to get Spencer to sit for more than two minutes at a time, besides this was easier standing up. "Chin up."

"Dad, I can do my own shaving."

"Not a chance. I don't have a makeup mirror, and you can't exit this room without handcuffs, so - you are at my mercy. Turn your head, there you go."

"Please don't shave it ALL off."

"Relax, I'm going based off of your old passport photo. Hotchner insisted. I suppose I can leave a little mustache if you want. As long as you don't look like Robin Williams at the start of Jumanji, I think we'll be okay."

"Jumanji?"

"Of come on, you must have seen it. Old '95 movie about a cursed game."

"No." Reid's deadpanned voice, didn't seem to register with his father.

"Well I'll have to rent it for a celebration when you get out of here. You can tell us all about the statistical anomaly of plant eating a police patrol car. Careful, shaving cream doesn't taste very good." He put his son's jaw back in place.

"What kind of plant -?"

"Never mind that," Hotch finally interrupted. Half of his mind wanted to let the conversation continue, the other decided that somehow - someway - the madness would have to stop.

Hotch gave a small shake of the head, to which William could only reply with a grimace.

Fiona, who seemed the least surprised by the judge's decision, turned her attention to Reid's wet clothes. "William, doesn't he need a towel?"

"He's got one, he's standing on it. You think I care about this grungy prison uniform? Relax," William reached down to pick up the small washcloth he'd left at Spencer's feet. He dried off his son's face. "There, what do you think?"

Reid scowled, pulling away as his father turned him around to see face Hotch. "Don't manhandle me!"

William started to protest, but Hotch shook his head behind Reid's turned back. He remembered all too well how Reid had reacted to security trying to escort him out of a casino. That particular anxiety would only have been heightened by the experience of prison guards.

"Spencer!" William and Fiona both seemed to think he was overreacting, practically hyperventilating as he backed up into a corner, stumbling over one of the small chairs in the center of the room.

"Stop!" Hotch ordered his fellow attorneys as he slowly approached Reid, stopping at a respectable distance. "Reid, sit down."

Reid shook his head. It was one thing for guards and bailiffs to manhandle and direct his every move, but his dad? Even Hotch? Nope. He stood, arms crossed, seething.

Hotch decided to try a different tactic. "Relax, please. You can't pull away from your dad. If we're going to have him in the courtroom, then we need to put on a show of family support. Pulling away from him -"

"- shows hostility. I know."

"Okay, William." Hotch waved him over. "Your his father, not his guard. Now, can I see a show of affection?" It really was a show Hotch realized with a knot in his stomach. Spencer wasn't fighting his father, but he looked like a scared rabbit, ready to bolt. "Reid, he won't bite if you touch him."

Reid took the hint, his once limp arms hanging by his side slowly wrapping around his father's neck.

"Now try resting your head on his shoulder. Just relax."

Reid compiled, turning his head away from Hotch, but relaxing? Telling someone to relax was almost as bad as telling someone not to look down from a precipice. The opposite effect was bound to happen.

"How can you possibly relax in that horrible outfit?" Fiona stepped in, taking hold of a garment back draped over the back of the chair. She withdrew what had to be William's pick. Hotch was certain that had not come from Spencer's go-bag. The black suit and jacket had every manner of style that Reid was lacking. For one there was no vest and two - the contrasting shades of blue between the dress shirt and tie were a perfect compliment.

William broke the awkward silence - apparently Spencer was less than thrilled with his father's choice - as Fiona turned her back, allowing her client to change in semi-privacy.

"Do you mind?" Reid had half undone the zip on his orange jumpsuit when he realized the his dad and Hotch had not followed Fiona's example.

"Sorry, son."

"Not a chance." Hotch perhaps should not have found Reid's pouting face to be funny, but he looked like a petulant child, especially now that he'd lost the beard. "If the bailiff comes in and sees no one watching you - there WILL be trouble."

As much as they hated to admit it, they were in essence his guards at the moment. Thankfully, both of them kept their gaze at eye level as he changed into - "I knew it!" Reid had a triumphal - if annoyed - gleam in his eye. "It doesn't fit."

"That was the smallest size they had."

"Too big around the waist and too short in the legs."

"Well there's nothing for it now. Trial starts in five minutes. Although, this might help." Oh yes, Hotch knew his agents.

"Why on earth do you have a white and grey sock?" Such a fashion rule violation was beyond Fiona's comprehension.

"You know what Uncle Daniel used to say!" Spencer smiled up at his father with a cheeky grin. Well at least they were starting to sound like family, what with the inside jokes.

William looked more than exasperated, his eyes half closed as he counted to 10. Apparently they'd had this conversation before. "I know he convinced you and David that matching socks were unlucky - but you were THREE!"

"And the one time I wore matching socks, I broke my leg!"

"You also fell from trying to tightrope walk the backyard wall. What your mother was thinking, I will never know."

Time for someone to put a stop to the madness. That was Hotch's job - if nothing else, he knew how to redirect Reid's attention. Although usually it was a combined effort of him and Morgan. How the team had handled Reid's idiosyncrasies without them, was a mystery. "There's also, this." He pulled out of his briefcase not only a belt, but also a very familiar purple scarf. "Garcia insisted."

Reid's wide eyes and twitchy fingers reminded Hotch of Gollum as he quickly pulled on his socks, black dress shoes, tightened his belt and held both ends of the scarf around his shoulders.

Fiona and William looked aghast at the wardrobe changes, but all Hotch could see was his quirky and slightly indignant agent. Time to show the world the real Spencer Reid. "Let's not keep the judge waiting."

Spencer Reid turned on the heels of his stiff new dress shoes, facing the large oak door which Hotch held open.

Fiona and his father stepped forward first, giving Spencer precious seconds to take in the onslaught of flashing lights as he dutifully followed his father's footsteps towards the bench.

Exactly how many reporters were here? Were any of J.J.'s old colleagues among them? He stood dumbfounded for a moment, his eyes fixated on the rows of empty seats, where he had been hoping to see the encouraging smiles of his friends and colleagues. If the fanfare had just started - ?

He took his father's nudge on cue and took his assigned seat. Yes, assigned. There had been many, perhaps too many, discussions to this sort. Spencer was none too pleased to be crowded between his father and Fiona, but Fiona had feared him becoming too relaxed in Hotch's familiar presence. As if he needed any reminds of  _why_ he was here.

Once he was accounted for - couldn't give the defendant any escape chance in the crowd - the Judge gave the bailiff the slightest of nods and the doors were opened for both the audience and the jury.

He turned around on instinct, hoping to catch a glimpse, but Fiona's nails dug into his skin. "Don't." She turned his attention back to a set of spiral bound notebooks she was handing out. "Which color do you want?"

Which what? Apparently she was going for color coordination and was giving him the courtesy of a choice. It was merely pen colors. Nothing more mundane was even possible, but Spencer found his hand hovering over the four pens. Just pick one. There really was only one color, though, he realized after 10 bizarre seconds of contemplation. It seemed by Fiona's incredulous glance at Hotch - and his unit chief's grim smile of smug satisfaction - that there must have been a bet to this effect. Purple for Reid. That left Hotch to take black, William took the blue, which left Fiona with red. It was fitting, bizarrely, since red leapt off the page quite like Fiona's exasperated, barking orders. Perhaps that was the point, as illustrated by the red words written on the first page of his notebook.

_1) DO NOT TURN AROUND TO THE AUDIENCE_

_2) DO NOT TALK IN COURT_

The two most basic rules of the defendant, in case his eidetic memory could forget them in the heat of the moment. For all of his professional expertise in court, he had no experience on which to fall back in this role. Nor did he have the luxury of a casual observer.

"All rise, Court is now in Session. The Honorable Elizabeth Weston presiding. Case # 141546: The People of the United States of America vs Spencer Reid."

Reid jumped to his feet as had been his habit ever since his first arraignment. Now was not the time to forget his place and remain seated.

"You may be seated."

Reid remained standing. It wasn't necessary, of course, and could even be seen as direct disobedience to the court, but Reid preferred to think it showed the utmost respect to remain standing. The fact that his legs had started shaking so badly that he was afraid to move for fear of falling over, probably would not occur to anyone. Such as the thought that this day would ever actually come had not ever  _seriously_ occurred to him.

"Spencer Reid, what is your plea to counts one and two?"

The answer so rehearsed stuck to the roof of his mouth. Not guilty. He had repeated it over and over again, but had he been naive? He now had no fallback, no plea bargain on the table. No safety net. He stole a glance at the carefully selected jury. Could he trust them to see the truth? Did he have a choice anymore? "Not guilty, Your Honor." It was hardly the bold proclamation he had rehearsed, but it was done.

He carefully reached for his chair and crossed his shaking legs, the memory of Cat's voice at their first meeting, sending a chill up his spine

_I know what I want now. I want to play a game with you. You like games?_

_I do._ \- If only he'd listened to J.J.'s warning about her being up close and personal.

_Do you win?_

_I always win._

With a bet on his life and freedom, the cards were dealt and dice was cast.

 _Game on. -_ Indeed, it was.


End file.
